


To Begin Anew

by Anjaliya



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sex, Unread
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjaliya/pseuds/Anjaliya
Summary: Our story picks up during Assassin's Creed Unity: Arno is still an Assassin, Elise is still alive, and our female Assassin is battling a fondness for Arno that continues to grow, despite the obstacle of Arno's love for the Templar.  The story will eventually transition after the events of ACU.  Do not expect much Assassin business - this story will regard the more personal lives of the characters.  Because let's face it - most of us are here for fluff, angst, and smut anyway.





	1. Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I began writing after finishing ACU for probably the millionth time. I realized that no one really knows what happened to Arno and I'm sad that his existence is just kinda hanging in limbo....we know he eventually procreates and moves on. But I wanted to imagine how he healed after the events of ACU and the DLC. Plus, I am so tired of Elise and her bullcrap - I wanted him to find someone that would actually be dedicated to him, and to not her own agenda or quest for revenge.
> 
> As of right now, the female character has no name. I have tried to write the story ambiguously, so that you may insert yourself as the female Assassin, but I am not doing that "Y/N" stuff, since I feel it interrupts the flow of writing. So, use your imagination. The viewpoint will switch from first to third person and back again.
> 
> **DISCLAIMER**: Of course, I do not own Assassin's Creed, any of its characters, or its story line. I am not benefiting financially from any part of this story; however this story is mine and is posted here for your viewing pleasure.

_He left me. He left me for that red-headed Templar whore._

The words run bitterly through my head over and over as I sprint through the halls of the palace. There, a guard coming at me, hidden blade unsheathed, sent through the young man’s throat. He gurgles and crumples through the floor. I almost feel sorry for him. The Assassins do not take pleasure in killing, but if it’s between me and one of these lackeys, it’s going to be him dead on the floor.

Arno caught one sight of that woman and left my side, against my protests. He was gone for five, ten, fifteen minutes, then an hour. When our target finally came out of the room that we had been stalking for the entire mission, I didn’t bother to wait for him. The time to act was now. I couldn’t wait for Arno to get his hands off her to come back and finish this. I could have done this mission by myself, but the Masters had insisted we go as a team. 

Everything was going fine until I saw her red hair from her hiding spot on the roof. I should have never pointed her out. Because as soon as I did, Arno mumbled a “Wait for me” before scaling the outer Palace walls to her. The two disappeared further into the shadows. The sun had just been setting when he went to her. It was now nightfall.

Yes, jealousy burned in me. Of course, I could never compete with the woman he had literally grown up with, the woman for whom his heart desires. I was merely a Sister Assassin, a woman he had met scarcely a year ago. Though we’ve trained extensively together for the entire time I’ve been with the Paris Brotherhood, apparently we weren’t as close as I thought, for him to abandon me the instant Elise came snapping her fingers.

I contemplated informing the Council of Arno’s carelessness but almost immediately disregarded the thought. Arno was already in hot water for the choices he had made recently and another gross transgression would probably result in his expulsion. Moreover, I was not a tattletale. Plus, my decision to go before the Council would be fueled by envy, not duty.

Our target, a Monsieur Edward Bauliere, walked through the chambers. How many guards? Two that just left in the hallway, and an aide that he was speaking to. I could shoot him from here –

He moved, just enough so that I couldn’t get a clear shot. Sighing, I left from my shadows, leaping and landing silently on the building, right above the floor Edward was on. I listened carefully to footsteps. I scaled down the wall silently, staying out of the candlelight emanating out of the windows. Edward gave the paperwork he was holding to his aide, who left the room. Edward turned around and I stayed close to the open window, preparing to make my move. 

He walked into the other room, the one I had no clue who all was in.

Growling in frustration, I entered through the window anyway and stayed low to the ground. I peeked in to the adjacent room. Edward still had his back to me. The windows were all closed, albeit one door leading out into a hallway.

I could have this mission done before Arno removes his lips from Elise. 

I closed the gap between us. Hidden blade out, I grabbed Edward by the back of his coat, causing him to gasp in surprise. The blade cut off whatever he was going to say. He fell to the ground, twitching. 

I heard a shout from behind, causing me to whirl around. Apparently the aide had come back and seen me.

“GUARDS!” he screamed. 

Merde. The guards came blasting in from the prior room, behind the aide. Windows in here were locked. Better go for the hallway.

I bolted down the hall, slashing the throats of any guards unfortunate enough to step out of other rooms. One, two, three, seven – all cut down. I kept my hood up as I sprinted harder, faster.

Must get out.

I heard a gunshot. The vase on the table I was just passing exploded. Wow, they must have been practicing their shooting skills – they’ve never gotten so close as of late.

I reached into my robes and pulled out a smoke bomb. With a flash, the entire hall filled with smoke. Peering through the chaos – there! - an open window straight ahead at the end of the hall. Only thirty meters away. 

I pushed myself to run faster. The yelling and footsteps were gaining.

Arno left me here, I kept thinking. But how stupid will he feel when he hears this commotion and sees me at our rendezvous spot, casually cleaning Edward’s blood from my blade? After I’ve completed the mission while he was busy with his own rendezvous?

Pathetic.

The window was right there, just a few more strides – 

I heard the gunshot, felt the fire go in my back and stay there. Burning, bright, like someone had stuck a hot poker inside my skin. 

I cried out, stumbled a bit, but kept pushing for that window. Another smoke bomb, a flash. I was going to make it.

The pain was debilitating. 

A guard stepped out of another room, I almost didn’t see him from the smoke. He wasted no time, however. As I put up an arm reflexively, he slashed at me with his bayonet. The sharp blade made contact with my right forearm right under my gauntlet, the pain searing and hot like the gunshot wound. I raised my other arm and shot him through the throat with a dart. He fell back and disappeared through the threshold and smoke.

My feet were slowing down, my heart rate thumping in my ears, my eyes starting to darken. I was blacking out and was still in the lion’s den.

I threw myself over the windowsill, praying something was on the other side to break my fall. A haystack, anything. My prayers were answered with a scaffolding.

Three stories down.

I landed on my side with the bullet and stab wounds. I also heard some ribs cracking upon impact. My breath caught in my throat and I began to see stars.

But I had to move. All they had to do was look down out the window and see my broken body laying there. The lion would soon have a snack.

_He left me, he left me._

Mustering up any strength I had left, I rolled over to the side of the scaffolding and let myself drop down into that coveted haystack I had been searching for. Above me, I could still hear gunfire and shouting. Has Arno finally been alerted? Did he finally tear himself away from her embrace long enough to check on his protégé?

I listened to the commotion for several more minutes, drifting in and out of consciousness. The pain in my body was sapping any energy I had left. 

Do I stay here? Do I attempt to get back to the Temple? 

I wouldn’t make it there. It was much too far. But I had to get away.

Grateful it was the dead of night, I managed to crawl out of the haystack and limp away. I must have been a pitiful sight. I’m so used to scaling buildings and escaping by walking on taut ropes but now I looked like a beggar woman whose back had been broken at the workhouse. 

I could hear the screaming for quite some time, but I managed to get far enough from the scene. I found an unoccupied alley and could go no longer. Leaning up against the wall of probably some poor soul’s house, my legs gave out and I slid to the dirty alley road. I slumped over onto my side and my hood came off, my hair spilling out around me, covering my face. My hair wasn’t the only thing spilling out around me. My wounds were bleeding profusely; I watched as the blood pumped out of my arm. The wound was deeper than I thought. I gripped my forearm, desperate to slow the bleeding. I could feel my back becoming wet from the bullet wound that was leaking more of my precious life force, staining my white Assassin’s robes.

My breathing was becoming labored. My eyesight now blurry and darker than before.

So this is what it feels like to die.

 _He left me, he left me there._

I would have been angry, livid, if I didn’t feel so tired. I knew I was still breathing, but air didn’t seem to be getting in. I heard myself start gasping for oxygen. I was cold, freezing. So surreal.

_He left me…..to die._ My friend, Brother, mentor. I would have been devastated....if I didn’t feel the way I did for him. The agony of him not wanting me, of him still being in love with his betrothed, would be over soon and I would slip into the sweet, sweet peace of nothingness.

I don’t know how long I was there until I heard rapid footsteps approaching at the end of the alley. So the rats have found me. I had no strength to sit up, to move, to defend myself; I waited for the final blade’s stroke.

“No!” I heard a familiar voice cry. 

My breathing was shallow. I could not even open my eyes to see him but I heard him kneel in front of me.

“No, no, no,” Arno breathed, sounding frantic. “Why did you not wait for me?!”

He rolled me over onto my back and brushed my long hair away from my face. I wished that I could see him. “Oh, mon Dieu, please say something!”

Try as I might, the only thing that came out was a shuddered breath. I couldn’t get enough air.

He said my name over and over again as he lifted me almost effortlessly from the ground. His voice sounded manic, cracking with emotion every time he spoke. Sweet blackness began to engulf me. I heard Arno begging for me to stay with him, how so very sorry he was. 

With one last burst of strength, I opened up my eyes very slightly to look at him. He had stopped running to look down at me, his face horrified of the condition I was in. “Stay with me!” he begged.

Blackness took over my eyes, and I knew no more.


	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voila, Chapter 2. Hope you enjoy.

Arno paced outside the doctor’s quarters. The guilt inside his stomach was sickening. He had left his fellow Sister alone, on one of her first missions. After scooping up her lifeless body, he had, by some miracle, found an empty carriage with the horses hitched. He had carefully laid her on the inside of the carriage, before sitting in the driver’s seat and quickly grabbing the horses’ reins. He had pushed the horses to their limit and almost flew through the empty streets to the Brotherhood Hideout. Each moment passed could possibly be the moment that his Sister took her final breath and left this world.

After coming to a screeching halt at one of the many entrances, he ran back to the carriage door and wrenched it open. She was still slumped over in the same spot, bloody but alive. Grabbing her as gently as he could, he picked her back up, not noticing her blood soaked robes staining his own. Racing inside, he bellowed for anyone to come help him. Brother Assassins emerged from the shadows at the shout and came forward. 

Thomas lowered his hood upon seeing Arno and his protégé, “What in God’s name-“

“Fetch the médecin!!” Arno shouted, panicked. The men ran forward to warn the doctor of the harrowing circumstances.

Arno burst into the doctor’s quarters and laid her on the table. Her blood had soaked through her sleeve and dripped off the back of her robes. As Arno said her name over and over again, he tried to hold back the guilt that wracked through his body and to his core. Arno gripped her limp hand and stroked her long hair, almost lovingly. He could see that her breathing was shallow. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to hers, something inside him breaking. “Please stay. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

The médecin came rushing in the room, along with a nurse. They both took one look at the Assassin on the table and immediately got to work. The doctor asked Arno, “What happened?”

Arno wiped away at the sweat that had formed by his brow. “I….I don’t know,” Arno exclaimed, backing away from the table, in shock of what was happening before him.

“You don’t know?” The doctor chastised, while desperately trying to remove the injured Assassin’s robes quickly. “Boy, weren’t you there?”

Arno’s brow furrowed, his eyes not leaving her injured form. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t there.” He backed the wall behind him. “Please, please save her.”

The doctor and nurse, methodically working over her dying body, somehow were able to revive her. Arno heard a terrible groan escape her mouth as they wrenched the last of her uniform away from her torso, leaving only her chest bindings.

“Can you hear me?” the doctor said. 

Arno felt a glimmer of hope when he saw her eyes flutter open. “Let’s roll her onto her side. I need to see what her injuries are.”

Together the nurse and doctor rolled her over onto her left side. Arno groaned at the massive amount of blood on her back. The pressure on the ribs that she had broken sent excruciating stabs of pain through her, causing her to emit a powerful scream of agony.

Upon hearing her wail, Arno slumped to the floor, defeated with his hands on his hood, almost attempting to disappear from the shame he felt. However would he explain what had happened? How could he explain how his partner had become so injured, so broken? How could he ever apologize for leaving her for Elise?

“We have a bullet wound here but no exit. It must still be inside her. We’ll have to fish it out,” the doctor said. Arno could hear the clanking of metal tools. The bile raised in his throat. The pain she must be feeling…..

“All right, love, you may feel this,” the doctor said sympathetically.

Arno could tell the exact instant those pliers dug into her back, for she emitted a scream like he hoped to never hear again even in his worst of nightmares. It shattered him to his very heart. The doctor continued to dig, the nurse wiping away the blood seeping out. “Almost there.”

The screaming continued. Arno tried to disappear, hoping the earth would open and swallow him into the depths. She was in pain, so much terrible pain.

The door flew open just then. Thomas was there, along with Pierre. They winced at the sounds of the screams. 

“What the hell is this?” the doctor bellowed. “Get out! And take that blithering fool on the floor with you!” 

Arno, almost in a daze, felt his arms being grasped as he was lifted from the ground. He was almost grateful to leave, since her screams were reverberating through his brain. The three of them left the chamber, Pierre closing the door behind them. It didn’t do much to muffle the cries.

Arno was released and collapsed, landing on the ground on all fours. 

The guilt, the utter agonizing feeling of guilt. Had he not told her to wait? But why should she? She was young, new to the Brotherhood, eager to take on enemies at a moment’s notice. He knew the better question to ask was, Why was he so foolish to leave her? They were on a mission, a contract set by the Master Assassins. And he jeopardized her for Elise, who ended up pushing him away again, like she always did.

Thomas placed an empathetic hand on Arno’s back. “Brother, you must tell me what happened.”

“I…I don’t know. We were separated. She went in before I did and I lost sight of her,” he groaned. Not a complete lie. Just an omission of truth.

Thomas straightened. He was an experienced Assassin and knew when someone was pulling his chain. “Something is missing from your story, Brother.”

Arno shook his head, sitting back on his heels. “I…I can’t.”

Thomas let a breath out through his nose; he was clearly irritated. “Whatever happened, I hope for your sake the Elders don’t find out what it is. I have a feeling that a gross indiscretion occurred.” 

Arno couldn’t meet his eyes.

Thomas motioned at Pierre, sighing heavily. “Come. We must notify the Council that an Assassin is dying.”

Dying, she’s dying. Arno felt another stab in his heart. If she dies, if another person dies because of him, he would not be able to handle the guilt.

Arno pulled himself to his feet and began to pace. 

Every so often, one of her screams would pierce through the hall and he would pause, contemplating if he should enter the room. However, he doubted he would be of any help. He hadn’t been very useful thus far. 

Minutes passed, then several more, then more to the extent that Arno lost track of time completely.

Thomas returned, alone this time. By then, Arno had resumed his position sitting on the floor against the hall, facing the médecin’s door. His face looked empty, devoid of all emotion that was plaguing him.

Thomas sighed, looking down at the pitiful Assassin. “The Council is waiting to hear of her condition. Have they come out yet?”  
Arno shook his head slightly, then said plainly, “No.”

“There will be a meeting. They want to know what happened.”

Arno still could not meet his eyes, instead staring at the tapestry across from him. “I made a mistake. This should not have happened.”

Thomas looked from the closed door back to Arno. “A mistake? That’s an ambiguous term. This is a tragedy. An Assassin dying unnecessarily.”

“She hasn’t died – “ Arno started.

“For God’s sake, man you are covered in her blood,” Thomas hissed. 

Arno looked down at his arms, his gloves. Thomas was indeed correct. He was stained with it. He wondered how he hadn’t smelled it before. 

Thomas sighed. “Pathetic.” He turned from Arno and went to the opposite end of the hall and sat on a chair to wait.

Arno brought his knees up, resting his elbows on them. He gripped his hair, not caring that her blood was still drying on his gloves. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply through his nose and began to pray.

**

The médecin’s door opened. Arno looked up, startled by the sound and stood immediately. Thomas also rose from his spot and stood silently, waiting.

The doctor’s front was covered in blood, his expression somber. 

Arno’s breath caught in his throat. “Monsieur? Please, tell me, how is she?”

The old man’s gray eyes met Arno’s. “Alert the council.”

The breath was sucked out of Arno’s lungs. He felt dizzy, sick. “No….”

The médecin looked at Thomas, who clearly was the only one who had any composure left. “Alert the council that she will live.”

Arno gasped in relief. “May we see her?”

The médecin eyed him. “She is unconscious. She has been cleaned, treated, and stitched. Please be careful. Once she becomes more stable, we will move her to a different chamber.”

Arno moved passed the médecin into the dimly lit chamber. The nurse was still inside, moving bloodstained bandages into a bowl. Arno’s eyes moved to the Sister Assassin lying on the table. She was laying on her stomach, her face turned away from him. A solitary white sheet was placed over her frail form from her waist down; her robes had been stripped away and were laying disheveled on a nearby table. He saw a bandage wrapped on both the spot on her back as well as a thicker one on her right arm. The blood had been wiped away. 

Arno rounded the table, not taking his eyes off her. Her muscular, pale back lightly raised with every shaky breath she took. When he finally came to a stop on the other side, to see her face, he knelt down in front of her. He removed his bloody glove and stroked her hair as her eyes stayed closed.

“We gave her a sedative,” the nurse said: Arno could see how tired she looked. “She should be asleep for a while.”

Arno still would not remove his eyes from the Assassin’s peaceful face. She looked beautiful.

“The Council will have to keep someone here on guard around the clock. If her condition changes, we need to be notified immediately.”

“I’ll stay,” Arno said softly. “I’ll stay.”

The nurse gave a small nod. “I’ll check in periodically.” She left to speak with the médecin and Thomas who were congregating near the door.

Thomas looked in to see Arno placing a chair near the table where she lay. Arno sat, gazing at her. His face was still wracked with guilt as he ran his fingers through her long hair and Arno decided that he would stay there with her, no matter how long it took.

 

**

 

I had nightmares; I was on fire, I was drowning in a terrible inferno. Air would not enter my lungs. My back was being whipped by a red, horned devil while I screamed for mercy. The pain was dull and throbbing at first, but then turning to a blazing ferocity that could not be put out.

I was somewhat aware of what was happening around me. I felt cold, then feverish, then cold again. The anger corroded inside me as my brain replayed the events from earlier. I saw Arno’s face, could almost see his heart leap with elation when I first told him that I saw Elise up on that building. 

“Ah, well, wait for me, will you?” Arno had muttered, moving from our hidden spot.

“What? Why, we are in the middle of something – “ I had protested, raising a hand to grab his wrist.

Arno slipped just enough out of my grasp, until his fingers gripped mine, giving them a reassuring squeeze and causing my own heart to pound despite the circumstances. “Just a moment. I’ll be right back,” he had said. 

Envy burned inside me like no fire ever could. I watched him leap to the roof, saw him walk up to her. Then watched, fuming, as the two of them disappeared from my line of sight.

Rejection hit me hard. I had pursed my lips together and my eyes narrowed. I had no right to be envious. Arno did not know of my affections. But had we not spent the last year together, playing chess at the café théâtre over a shared bottle of wine? Me coming to see him during his bout of the flu? Hadn’t we laughed together over shared stories of silliness from our childhoods? What about the bouquet of pink wild roses that he had picked for my birthday because he knew they were my favorite, with a letter in his handwriting that said, Bon Anniversaire, Ma Chere….

I must have misread the signs. I was wrong, so very very wrong. 

The love that had started the moment I saw him on my first day at the Brotherhood had grown exponentially over time, with every touch, every sideways glance at each other, every time he gazed into my eyes with a sweet smile on his lips. 

But I could never sway him from her. They had grown up together, after all. Arno had loved her since childhood. How could I possibly compare to that red-haired beauty? I was nothing extraordinary. Though she was a Templar, though she constantly pushed him away, he still was bound to her. And no sweet whispers or low laughs, or infrequent light caresses shared between us could ever make him stray. I had been a fool. From start to finish. I had read into signs that had never been there, my own hope pushing me toward a possible romance with the rugged, beautiful and flawed man.

I had gone in to kill Edward to show Arno that I didn’t need him, that I was perfectly aware of being the deadly Assassin while he stayed in his strange mating ritual with Elise. But I had failed miserably. I wanted to smugly rub it in his face that I had completed the mission when he had abandoned me for her, but all I had done was put my own life in serious danger.

I didn’t need to go into that building, but my own pride sent me in there. I had wanted to impress Arno by showing him I was the strong, adept woman they had recruited me to be. And now it was Arno’s rejection that fanned the flame of anger growing inside me.

Minutes, hours, perhaps days later, I can’t be sure, I was able to open my heavy, heavy eyes.

I knew where I was, the chamber of the médecin. I had been here multiple times for sprains and other injuries maintained during training. Nothing serious.

But this was serious.

I became acutely aware of the excruciating pain pulsating in my arm and the stinging pain in my back. Closing my eyes again, I tried to fall back into sleep, but I could sense someone else in the room. Opening my eyes again, I felt dizzy, sick. But my attention narrowed on the man resting his head on my table. He was gently holding my hand in his. And he was sleeping.

Arno didn’t just fall asleep when he was on watch. He must have been here for a while, probably passing out from exhaustion. The tears sprang up in my eyes, traitorous and fierce. No, I would not cry for him. 

I slightly moved my head up and was greeted with a terrible throbbing pain running from my back to my neck to the front of my eyes. I whimpered, the pain too much as I set my head back down. The darkness began to envelope my eyesight. Slowly, I was passing out. 

 

***

 

Arno stirred awake, not sure what awoke him. He saw her moving ever so slightly, her face scrunched up in horrible pain.

Arno needed to speak to her, had to tell her how desperately sorry he was for everything that had transpired. He whispered her name. “Can you hear me? Please, say something.”

Her eyes opened for a moment and focused on him. He placed a hand on her head, lightly massaging her scalp and whispered, “Please stay with me. You need to hang on.”

She closed her eyes, a tear leaking out and dripping off the bridge of her nose. Her lips parted and she whispered, “But….you left me….”

Arno froze. The wave of guilt fell on him like a wet blanket. Convinced she had slipped back into unconsciousness, Arno leaned forward and pressed his lips to her warm forehead. He didn’t know how, but he would make this up to her. Even if it killed him.


	3. Healing

Arno walked through the dimly lit corridor. He had just debriefed the Council again on what had occurred during the mission two nights prior. Though his comrade was wounded, the mission was still considered complete from the Elders’ perspective: the target was dead, and the Assassins did what was expected of them. The end result was of course not the best circumstances, but knowing she would survive was consolation enough for them and he was finally able to take his leave.

However, for Arno, it was just another reminder of how often he seemed to completely turn things into a disaster. Receiving word that she had been moved into a more comfortable chamber located in the belly of the temple, he finally mustered up the courage to go and see her. Thomas had informed him, though begrudgingly, that Arno should at least make some kind of an appearance.

Arno lowered his hood as he neared the chamber door. Taking a deep breath, he paused for several moments, clutching the bouquet of flowers he had purchased down the way, since the pink flowers he sometimes picked for her were not currently blooming. Looking down at the petals, he breathed in their scent and wished their fragrance had some kind of toxin to possibly kill his nerves.

Raising a hand, he knocked gently on the door and when he received no immediate response, nor heard any movement, he knocked once again. 

No answer.

Turning, he considered leaving. Chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively, he knew that he needed to be there. So very slowly, he gripped the handle and pushed the door open a few inches. The opening only allowed him to see partway into the room; he was able to make out a solitary candle burning on the table against the wall, as well as random clothing strewn about. Arno knew that the doctor and nurse had been in to see her recently, though he had had no update on her progress.

Arno said her name very quietly: “It’s Arno….may I come in to see you?”

No response.

Unsure that she was even in the room, Arno pushed the door open more. Across the way, against the wall opposite of him, was a bed. Upon it, lying on her stomach again, was his fellow Assassin, a thick blanket covering her to protect her from the cold dampness of the Temple underbelly. She was sleeping, lips slightly parted, breathing slowed.

Arno entered, closing the door behind him. He set the flowers on the table and stood for a bit, unsure of what to do next. To him, it seemed a bit uninviting and rather unnerving to stay in her chamber when she was not conscious. And he dared not wake her up, for she needed her rest. Reaching for a chair, he set it down next to her bed, and sat silently.

For several minutes, Arno sat there, listening to the sounds of the Temple above him.

Quietly clearing his throat, he said softly, “I can’t imagine what you think of me.” Eyes flickering to her face, he saw no change and further decided he had not disturbed her. 

“I came here to apologize for what happened the other night,” Arno continued, “and I don’t ever expect you to forgive me. We were sent there as a team and at first opportunity, I abandoned you for my own selfish reasons.”

Arno pursed his lips together, trying to work through the shame coursing through his veins. “You came here to be an Assassin, to be one of us. And I gave you the same consideration I’d give a complete stranger. Maybe even worse.”

The low flame of the candlelight barely provided enough light in the chamber, but it illuminated her face magnificently. Even in sleep, he could see the feminine features of her face. Arno knew she was only a few years younger than him, but she carried the wisdom of someone three times her age. She listened patiently when he lamented about Elise, Monsieur de la Serre, losing his own father and knowing that his mother had voluntarily left him as a child, and frequently offered him advice. They had walked through Paris when time allowed them, taking in the air and occasionally protecting the citizens from ruffians.

Arno looked down at his hands disgracefully, for he realized that in all the time they had spent together, he barely asked his comrade about herself. Yet again, he had been selfish, not even managing to act like a gentleman.

He looked back down at her face, studied her cheekbones and full lips. He wondered what those lips would feel like under his fingertips, or pressing upon his own mouth.

Swallowing, he became quite aware of a small fire burning in the pit of his stomach. And he didn’t mind it. His love for Elise was always foremost at the front of his mind and yes, other women had completely seduced him on occasion, but they would never hold his heart. Arno deduced this feeling rising up in him was admiration for his companion; he certainly respected her as an Assassin for she was absolutely brilliant when she cut down enemies. Her technique and skills were flawless and dangerous. And of course, Arno knew how feminine she was. He noticed that during their walks, she managed to turn the heads of many men. She was beautiful, intelligent, and lethal – his favorite things in a woman.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, watching her sleeping form breathe low, “and I will fix this somehow. You don’t deserve to have someone like me as a mentor. I am flawed, and if our last mission was any indication of character, I am also easily distracted.”

She continued to sleep. Arno smiled sadly. Though this revelation to her was important, he knew that he would have to repeat his speech again once she woke up.

“I look forward to many more missions with you, if you’ll have me,” Arno continued, his voice low and soft as velvet. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on her cheek. She did not stir. With a gloved hand, he stroked her hair lovingly, before raising and leaving the cold chamber. 

When the door closed behind him, she opened her eyes slightly, having heard everything that transpired. Though she knew his words were genuine, they did nothing to quiet the anger and envy beating through her heart. 

***

My recovery process was slow and painful. It was several weeks before I could sit up without pain searing through some part of my body. I stayed in the Temple while recuperating. Nothing is worse than an injured Assassin out in the world without being able bodied enough to defend herself. I may as well had been a sitting duck if I left the confines of the Temple.

I had visitors, of course. Other Brothers and Sisters had come to see me, bring me small treats or something they had come across in their missions that they thought I would like. My little collection of treasures grew over the weeks. It was a wonderful feeling knowing that I was missed.

Arno had come to see me multiple times during the early phase of my recovery after that initial night. But I always pretended to be sleeping or could not take visitors. I wasn’t ready to face him, wasn’t ready to admit my own mistakes. There was also something quite seductive about holding my grudge against him. While I knew I had been wrong, I had too much pride to admit it and would rather see Arno wallow and suffer in guilt.

Finally, one day, when I felt the best that I had in a long time, I dressed in my new robes and left the confines of my chambers. Up until then, I had been useless, tired, and bored. I needed to get up and see the Council and I knew there was a gathering tonight, with all the Brotherhood. And I wanted to go.

Closing the door behind me, I could hear the quiet talk of my Brothers and Sisters coming from the main chamber. Taking a deep breath, I silently entered. None of my hooded brethren saw me enter, everyone too consumed with being assigned new contracts, new targets to destroy.

I saw him, or rather the back of him, approximately 20 feet away from me. He was deep in conversation with Jean-Jacques.

The urge to come up behind him, to place my hand on his broad shoulders, was replaced with a rage, the envious rage that I had felt multiple times while deep in my unconscious state.

He left me, for her.

The high Council member spoke: “We have a high risk target that must be taken out immediately. We have information that Templar Alexandre Dupont will be in our city. I need a team of no less than three of you to find him and give him peace.”

My Brothers and Sisters waited. The high Council decides who goes.

I was finally spotted. “Ah, Assassin, come forward, you have joined us at last.”

Everyone turned. Though their eyes were hooded, I could tell that they were sizing me up, to see if I had truly healed and was ready. The Brotherhood is a funny bunch – while we support and defend our brothers to the death, we also expect our partners to be in the best physical and emotional state. Me being weak could be a liability, resulting in failed missions, or even worse, fatalities. I needed to remain strong, though parts of my body still felt sore, unused.

Arno had turned. He started for me, but immediately stopped. I acted as if I did not see him there. I held my head high and walked to the rest of the group. I saw Thomas smile and nod at me. 

The High Council Member spoke again: “Assassin, if you are up to the task, I will assign you this contract.”

All eyes were on me, intense and silent. Though I had never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, I spoke, my voice strong and unwavering: “Yes, monsieur. I am healed. And ready.”

“Very well. I shall leave it up to you to assemble your team. Choose your brethren.”

Without hesitation, I spoke, “I choose Jean-Jacques and Thomas to accompany me.”

The High Council Member nodded. “Agreed. Take your leave.”

I turned on my heel to leave, with my Brothers right behind me. Though I could not see him, I could feel Arno’s eyes practically burning a hole in the back of my robes. The old me would have chosen him for my mission. The old me had not yet been hurt.

***

We completed the mission without so much as a hiccup. One more Templar down, and in my book, that was fine by me.

Jean-Jacques, Thomas, and I returned to the Temple the following day. After checking in with the High Council and discovering nothing was needed from me presently, I decided it was about high time for a drink.

I navigated through the dimly lit corridors, taking a deep breath and stretching out my neck. The pain still reverberated through my body, my ribs taking the longest time to heal. 

Alas, a tall pint should be enough to make me forget about my pain, physical and emotional.

I heard him quietly say my name.

Turning, I looked up to see Arno emerging from an alcove. He knew my route too well.

“Going for a pint?” he asked, his arms crossed across that broad chest of his.

Nodding, I swallowed. “Yes.”

“On your way to the Café-Theatre? May I walk with you? I need to speak with you.”

Shaking my head, I replied, “No, thank you. I am heading across La Seine.”

Arno paused. “Is my Café not good enough for you?”

“No, I need something stronger than wine. I need some kind of fortification. Because apparently I can’t get strength from my fellow Brothers.” There. I said it. No regrets.

With his hood on, he glowered at me, the flames’ light from the torches on the walls flickering over his angry features. I returned the stare, though I doubt I looked as menacing, for my own hood was down.

“I told you to wait,” he growled.

“You told me to wait, when we were on a mission to take out a Templar, while you go and plaster your lips all over your Templar girlfriend?” I snarled back. 

His nostrils flared. “Do not assume things, Sister.”

“I don’t assume anything, Brother,” I stated, matter of fact, while I closed the gap between us. “I know your feelings for her, everyone knows. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, you light up at the mere mention of her name, you nearly sacrificed my life for an hour of her time.”

I was standing in front of him – he was considerably taller, the shadows of his face hiding any emotion.

“And you have the audacity to try to blame me, when you should be begging for my forgiveness!” I scowled.

Still, he said nothing.

I scoffed. “Typical. Don’t realize the depth of your mistakes until you’re drowning in their consequences.” I whirled around, intending to leave him in my dust.

His iron clad grip snagged the crook of my arm and he forced me to face him. “I am sorry. Do you hear me? I am consumed with the guilt and haven’t slept properly since that night.” He may have been asking for forgiveness, but his voice still dripped with anger.

“Oh, so you don’t have any real conviction then? Your apology is fueled by your own need for inner peace?” I snarled, wrenching away my arm.

He grabbed both my arms, and I could finally see his eyes. They were pleading. “You must know how sorry I am for what happened. You can’t imagine my horror when I heard the commotion, the gunshots…when I saw you in that alley, my heart stopped.”

The tears burned in my eyes, angry tears. “The heart that beats only for Elise?”

His grip on me tightened. “What is this about? Something is going on that you are not telling me.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes that were searching for the answers that were not on my face. “Don’t burden yourself with my problems.”

“Burden? Burden, Sister?” He was so close, I could smell the soap on him. “You have never been a burden to me, and now you are so angry that I can’t even begin to repent for my mistakes? Are you saying that I will never make this right?”

Finally, I shoved him. He lost his grip and stared at me, mouth open.

“I am saying that I trusted you to be beside me,” I shoved him again, “I trusted you to be willing to sacrifice for the Brotherhood, for your Brothers, your Sisters, and you left me for a bloody Templar,” I shoved him again, he stumbled back, not defending himself. “All the training, all the time we have spent together this past year, preparing me to fight like you and I thought,” I shoved him again. “I thought…..”

Finally, the tears came forward, I almost collapsed. Instead, I leaned over and braced my hands on my knees, hanging my head in defeat. My rib cage hurt from my sobbing breaths. I straightened, my hand placed on my side, trying to isolate the pain.

“Are you envious of Elise?” he asked.

I could not meet his eyes, nor did I answer.

For a few tense moments, there was silence between us. Finally, Arno spoke in a low voice, “I cannot deny that I have feelings for you.”

Under normal circumstances, my heart would have sang. However, I felt a But was coming my way.

“But my feelings for Elise…. I can’t help those either.” 

I was ready to flee the tunnel, the pint forgotten. What I needed was a bed with a blanket to curl up under like a child.

“So, who do you choose?” I whispered.

His silence was his answer.

“She isn’t good for you, you know.” I gave a small laugh, though this was far from funny. It was humiliating. 

“She is my whole world,” he hissed.

Reality hit me hard and I realized everything I felt was for naught. The kiss he gave me when he thought I was sleeping was purely platonic. What I said next came out cool, calm, dangerous: “I know what drives Elise. And it isn’t you. Her lust for revenge and her call for duty outweighs whatever love she has for you. In the end, you will see. She will choose revenge over you. She will choose obligation over you. Just wait.”

I turned and left him. He did not come after me. And that hurt most of all.


	4. Discovery

Years later….

Much had happened since I had left Arno in the Temple. He had been expelled from the Brotherhood for his recklessness; for the indiscretion that occurred with me and for his inappropriate relationship with Elise fueling his personal vendettas for revenge. I wasn’t there, but I had heard that his expulsion had been a devastating blow. I had also heard that he had turned into a drunken hermit, hiding away in Versailles drinking up the country’s supply of wine. He had never handled his alcohol well and I can’t imagine his depression helped.

I had heard about Elise.

Somehow Thomas had found out what happened: Apparently Elise had been killed by Germain. What I had said to Arno in the Temple tunnel ended up transpiring, however at this point in my life, I no longer had the pride of needing to be right constantly. She had chosen duty over Arno, which, knowing Arno, had probably been an agonizing blow. When he had been incapacitated, she had left him there to finish the fight she could not win. Her body is buried in Des Cemetieres des Innocentes, not too far from the Temple. I have left flowers on her grave on many occasions, usually in the dead of night when no one can see. Templar or Assassin, in the end, death claims all of us and I know now that we must show respect.

I had not seen Arno since.

In the beginning, I was devastated. The words I had delivered to him were sharp and brutal, and in the moment, liberating. But as the weeks turned to months, and I had not set eyes on him, I began to erode inside. I wanted to smell the lovely soap on him, to see his boyish grin and to hear that sharp wit. For his presence was calming, and frankly, brought out an energy in me I had never felt with anyone. I completely immersed myself in work for the Brotherhood. My anger and rage came out in my killings; when the job was done, however, I would still walk the dark and bitter streets of Paris, alone and empty.

A few of my birthdays passed, along with the absence of pink wild roses.

I had thought for certain that Arno would approach the Council and ask to be reinstated. However, he never appeared. Perhaps his pride had not yet matured, like mine had. I knew better than anyone what it is like to fail and to be judged. Perhaps his decision to stay away was more from personal reasons – no doubt my brethren were satisfied, and frankly happy, that Elise had met her demise. After the events, I overheard many of my brothers and sisters discussing how much easier things would be now that the “Templar Bitch” was dead. Such a high ranking Templar had no place in their world, regardless of how a former Assassin may have loved her, and Arno more than likely knew of their smug content.

Life continued on, as it always does. The pain begins to chip away into memories. I even began to forget what he looked like, it had been that long. I continued with assignments, going up the ranks in my Brotherhood. I have now trained others in our ways. We have gained initiates, and tragically lost some. I had abandoned my white, almost virginal Assassin robes, and exchanged them for black and red Master Assassin ones.

Every day passed, with no news from anyone, anywhere. 

Until….

The life of a Master Assassin can change at a moment’s notice. And that was obvious when my current assignment shouted one last miserable curse word as I drove my blade into his heart, alerting his entourage.

I had said goodbye to the days of sticking around and fighting everyone that came flooding in the room. So I flew out the window, up the side of the building. I was in the heart of Paris, so I would be able to escape through the maze of rooftops.

I ran on the wet, slippery singled roofs, leaping and climbing. A hatch opened, with one of those goons poking his head out, searching for me. His face met the toe of my boot and I continued running as his body disappeared back down. The rain started up again as I crossed the street onto the next set of rooftops. I scaled down into the courtyard and kept jogging away from the area. 

I made my way through the throngs of people, through the streets and down an alleyway. When I exited the alley, still in a sprint, I slammed right into someone running on the road.

We both cried out and stumbled away from each other.

I looked up and saw Arno Dorian. Thoroughly shocked, I gasped, “Arno?”

He breathed my name, just as surprised.

I heard shouting coming from the direction that he had just run from. A dozen soldiers were gaining.

“Uh, what did you do?” I asked, stepping in quickly with his gait.

“No time!” was Arno’s reply. “Hurry!”

Without further instruction, I joined ranks next to him and together we ran into the city.

When the coast was clear, and we could no longer hear the metal clanking of soldiers’ uniforms, Arno and I both climbed a cathedral. He led me to an alcove and we both ducked inside to avoid the rain and prying eyes.

We both lowered our hoods, panting from the run. We both just stared at each other for a few moments, the thundering storm the only sound.

Finally, we both spoke:

“Arno, I can’t believe –“

“You’re still in France-“

We both stopped. Then promptly laughed.

He was smiling at me, almost relieved. I had a stupid grin on my face, too. The anger of our last meeting long gone.

Reaching up, he delicately moved a piece of hair that had strayed from my braid. “I like these new robes. They suit you.”

Years ago, his remark would have sent blood to my cheeks in a horrible blush, but now, I was older, secure in my womanhood. Instead of a blush, he got a confident smile. “Thank you, Arno.”

Without warning, He embraced me. I wrapped my arms around his middle; his strong arms around my shoulders, even a hand cradling the back of my head. We stayed like that for several long moments, my head against his large chest, listening to his thudding heartbeat. I inhaled that delicious soap smell.

When we finally pulled away, his gloved fingers touched my hair before we finally drew apart. However, we continued to hang on to each other’s forearms, unwilling to break the contact. 

“I thought you had left France,” I said, almost breathless.

He shook his head. “No, I was trying to leave. I was due for a ship to Egypt, but….felt it was better for me to stay here.”

Arno in Egypt? The only thing that kept me going was knowing that he was in the country, as if I could feel his presence. If he had fled to a new continent, I would have dove into a deep depression.

“What made you stay?” I wondered.

He smiled. “It took a young lad named Léon to get me to realize that I had some growing up to do and that I needed to stay.” 

My arms still clutching his, I took a shaky breath, still smiling. “I’ll have to thank this Léon later. I’m glad you’re here.”

The rain picked up, extinguishing many of the flames lit within the city. The wind was chilly in the September storm, blowing the rain into our little hiding spot. We retreated deeper into the alcove, regrettably breaking our contact.

For several moments, we stood there, huddled close together.

I couldn’t help it. Seeing him, and the overwhelming happiness of being in his presence again, I felt as though a giant ball of fire was building in my stomach, such elation, I found it almost impossible to keep in. With him looking down at me, his expression one of both melancholy and joy, I could not resist: I grabbed one of his lapels and muttered, “Come here,” before pulling him into another embrace. He accepted wholeheartedly, now burying his face into my hair. We listened to the storm, neither of us moving. I put my face into his jacket, inhaling his scent. Arno clung to me and I had to wonder, when was the last time he had such close contact with anyone? And honestly, I had not had touched another person (without killing them of course), for a long, long time.

Finally, I spoke first, “I missed you.”

His lips were in my hair: “I’ve missed you too.”

We were there for a while, unmoving.

“I’ve been looking for you throughout the city. You don’t come by the Café anymore,” Arno said softly in my ear.

It was true, I no longer patronized his café. Going in there, expecting to see Arno in our booth and finding it empty or with some other patrons, was too difficult to bear. I had not been in there for years. 

“I haven’t been there since our…that day,” I replied, keeping my eyes closed and becoming intoxicated by him.

“I was hoping to see you.”

“Were you?” I pulled back to meet his eyes. 

His brow furrowed. “Of course. I haven’t stopped thinking about you but with everything that has happened, I did not think you wanted to be in my company.”

I sighed, my body still pressed against his in our dark alcove. “I was rather upset.”

“I noticed.”

The rain began to let up, even rays of sun shining out on our city.

“Are you going to go before the Council and ask to be reinstated?” I asked, “You are an Assassin. You belong with us.”

He looked at me, his eyes and smile both sad. “I believe those days have passed, ma chere.”

His pet name for me seemed to spark something inside me that I had long thought gone.

“No. I will go before the Council. You have to rejoin us. The fight will never be over. We need a good man like you amongst us.”

Arno hesitated. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “I had hoped to regain favor with the Council.”

I nodded. “I will speak on your behalf. I will go before them now.” With a fire burning inside me, I began to take my leave.

“Wait!” Arno said, grabbing my arm. He dragged me back to shelter, chuckling. “Right this moment? You must wait, I don’t believe our meeting was by pure chance –“

Placing a hand on his chest, I excitedly grinned at him. “But you’re back! We can make everything right, just as it was.”

Arno cupped my face and kissed the top of my head. My knees started shaking from anticipation. “Shall I accompany you?”

I consider it, before saying, “Let me approach the Council alone, discover if they will consider it first. Then I will fetch you.”

He pulled me close, hugging me just as he did before, except now his cheek rested on the top of my head. “You know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the smut chapter! Thank you to those who have read my story and for leaving a kudos! It means a lot to me :)


	5. Playing

Arno stood on the palace roof alongside me, looking proud in his blue Assassin robes. The metal bearings and buttons on his uniform glinting in the brilliant setting sunlight. The breeze picked up, an abnormally warm day for October. No hiding for us at the moment. We were not on assignment. Just two friends enjoying a gorgeous fall evening; two friends that also enjoyed climbing the tallest buildings for some peace and quiet away from the chaos of the city.

It had taken some convincing on my part, but the Council had agreed to give Arno a chance back into the Brotherhood. I had a feeling that they had hated the decision to expel him all those years ago, regardless of whether or not he deserved it. Arno is a very skilled, talented Assassin, and his place is with us. After a month long trial basis, Arno proved to them that he was mature and capable enough to hold the rank of Assassin again. I believe the Council is relieved to have him back; they may have some reservations, and I have a feeling they will be keeping a close eye on Arno, just to see that his best interest is the Brotherhood this time and not his own personal agenda. But I knew that Arno would not disappoint them. He was different now, a more mature man.

Hands on my hips, I looked over at bustling, beautiful Paris. I sent a sideways glance at Arno. “What do you think? Think Cairo has this appeal?”

Arno smiled, walking toward me. “I suspect the pyramids would be rather easy to climb.”

“But when you got up there, you would see – “

“Sand,” Arno interrupted, smirking. “A lot of sand.”

I grinned. “No doubt.”

Arno stood next to me, a look of sadness washing over him. “I’ve certainly lived a thousand lifetimes here. But I suppose this is where we belong.”

“How could you possibly live anywhere else? France has the best wine. I know how you love your wine,” I teased.

Arno gave me a look, a smile playing on his lips. “Very cheeky.”

I shrugged, trying to hide my smile.

A large breeze picked up. I raised my hands above my head, stretching and letting my downed hair flow around me. I took a big breath. This moment was practically perfect in every way. Autumn is my absolute favorite season in Paris and being here with Arno made me wonder if we could go back to how things were, when we were still hopeful for the future, if we could ever be the friend to each other that we both needed.

Sighing contently and lowering my arms, I opened my eyes and saw Arno staring at me. “May I help you, Monsieur?”

Arno smiled. “Come by the Café-Theatre, tonight. At nightfall. I miss our chess games.”

“Arno, you know your Bordeaux makes me rather sleepy,” I warned.

Arno bowed a little at the waist, arms open. “Then you may have my bed. I shall sleep on the floor, in the attic, anywhere to have one of our nights again.”

I stared at him for a moment, the excitement on his face too much to ignore. He looked like the young Arno again: boyish, hopeful. I wonder how long he had been wanting to ask me to spend an evening with him. Smiling myself, I said, “I will be round bout 8.”

“Splendid,” Arno turned away from me and I could see he was preparing to leap from the cathedral. “I must prepare.”

“Wait!” I laughed. “Prepare for what?”

He walked back to me: I could see his mind was cluttered. He grabbed me by my shoulders, planting a kiss on both my cheeks, causing my feelings to betray me by sending a blush straight to my cheeks. “You shall see, ma chere.” Releasing me, he ran to the edge and performed the Leap of Faith. I ran to the ledge and saw him jump from the haystack and run through the crowd.

“Where on earth is he going?”

**

When I arrived at the café clutching a night bag, I could see the party was in full swing. Every table was filled with patrons, singing, laughing, drinking. The bar maids wove through the throngs of people, hands filled with mugs overflowing with frothy liquid. I knew how to get to Arno’s quarters, but it felt a bit odd to simply help myself through his chateau. Several years ago I never would have had a second thought. But things were different now. We were different. I had better wait for the invitation.

Walking through the café, I entered the main hall, the elegant staircase mainly empty except for the chamber maid hurrying down the steps.

“Mademoiselle!” she cried, rushing to me. “I have not seen you in ages! How wonderful to see you!”

I smiled politely, “Bonsoir, Amelie. How have you been?”

“Comme ci, comme ca,” she said, still smiling brightly. “Monsieur Dorian is expecting you! He is upstairs in his chambers! I shall announce your arrival!” The flighty little bird flew back up the stairs.

Sighing, I awkwardly waited below, clutching my night bag so tightly my fingers were turning sore.

Why did this feel so different? Arno and I had shared a game of chess with a bottle of wine so many times, I should feel elated for the opportunity to spend an uninterrupted evening with him again. Yes, I had spent the night on occasion, when the Bordeaux had made me lightheaded. I have slept in Arno’s bed, but never with him in it. And by the time I had awoken in the morning, Arno was sitting in one of the elegant chairs in his room, reading a paper with a cup of coffee on the table, or pouring over a letter from Elise.

He was always a gracious host, but our evenings never went farther than a board game and some light hearted banter.

Arno appeared on the mezzanine. He had shed his Assassin’s coat, wearing his waistcoat and white shirt. Even his pants were new, not roughed up from sliding and rolling down dirty dungeon floors. He looked down at me, seemingly breathless. “You came.”

Not moving, I said, “You are surprised?”

He grinned, then motion a hand to me. “Please! Come up!”

I had never seen him this excited. Climbing the stairs, Arno met me at the top, taking my bag and leading the way to his chambers. The chambermaid passed us, her giving me a meek and knowing smile.

What was happening? 

I walked into his chambers, the terrace doors open, inviting in the somewhat chilly October night breeze. A fire was blazing on the hearth. And in front of us, a dinner had been set out full of cheeses, wines, bread and a divine smelling seasoned meat. 

And in the center of the table, a large bouquet of pink wild roses.

The sight of the flowers made something catch in my throat. I could not speak, for fear of a sob escaping. He remembered.

Arno had come up next to me, holding my bag. His expression was somber, hopeful. “Do you like them?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded.

“I managed to find a vendor, since they obviously don’t bloom here this time of year. I figured I could make up for all the birthdays I have missed,” Arno said, his voice low.

I managed to murmur, “They’re lovely.”

Arno smiled, relieved. He set my bag down near the partition by the fireplace. “Please, allow me.” He drew the chair out for me. I sat and allowed him to pour me a glass of wine. 

He sat opposite of me, gripping his already full glass. “What shall we toast to?”

Thinking for a moment, I said, “How about to starting over?”

Smiling slightly, he said softly, “I like that.” He raised his glass. “Recommencer.” I touched my glass to his and then sipped the wine. The taste was just as I remembered it.

Dinner was not as awkward as I thought it would be. Arno was eager to tell me about his adventures; apparently he had been all over France the last several years. He chattered on and on, only stopping briefly for a gulp of wine or a bite of bread. I listened to my host, asking questions for clarification. I liked this Arno. The brooding, sulking Arno had seemingly vanished.  
The plates were eventually cleared and the Bordeaux was having an effect on me. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Are you ready for me to slaughter you in a game of chess, monsieur?”

Arno raised an eyebrow at me. “En garde, mademoiselle. For I leave no prisoners.”

The board was set up and we began to play.

The night got colder, the temperature plunging considerably from the warm fall day of earlier. On our third game (him consistently losing) as my pawn took out his rook, a breeze blew in through the open doors and I shivered.

Arno had been looking intently at the board trying to find a way to keep his King from being cornered. Looking up at me, he said, “Shall I shut the windows and doors for you?”

“Please,” I responded. When he raised from his seat, I stood up from my own, grabbing my bag and going behind the partition to change. Upon his invitation from earlier in the day, I had left the palace rooftop and had gone straight for the dress shop. The woman assisting me told me that the long sleeved cotton and lace nightgown was supposedly the most elegant one they sold. I also purchased a floral print robe; these two items being quite possibly the fanciest and most ladylike things I owned. I had hoped Arno would like them. 

But I was really hoping he would remove them from my body later.

“Ah, ready for bed, are you?” Arno was coming back. “Did my appalling defeats make you drowsy?”

“No, Monsieur, just wanted to slip into something more comfortable,” I replied, taking the tail of my braid out from its pin. Tying the robe’s ribbon under my bosom, I emerged from the partition. Arno had been studying the board, probably trying to find a way to conquer me. But when I walked toward him, he turned and paused.

I blushed, his stare obvious. “What, Arno? They’re simply night clothes.”

Arno nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. I just haven’t seen you like this in…”

“Six years,” I finished for him.

“Yes, indeed. Six years.” He stepped back as I walked up to him. I studied the board for a moment and moved my queen for the final kill. “Checkmate.”

Arno’s brow furrowed. “What? What! No, that can’t be, I was about to corner you.”

I patted his shoulder, reassuring. “Perhaps you should have been practicing strategies on your adventures, dear friend.” Picking up my goblet, I left the flustered Arno at the board. 

Walking to his bookcase, I heard him mutter behind me. “This is absurd, I should have had you.”

You still can, dear Arno, I thought mischievously to myself.

My eyes landed on his copy of La Vie de Marianne. I took it out from its spot on the bookcase. I let it fall open in my hand. It was marked in the same place that I had left it all those years ago. A sad smile crossed my face. Such a long time to be without someone.

Arno was behind me. “I left that there, for you. I had very much hoped that you would return to finish it.”

I turned to look at him and smiled. “That was very thoughtful.”

For a few heartbeats, he and I stood there and gazed at each other, his expression now wistful. Arno, the man who was always so sure and confident, now appeared insecure, vulnerable.

Clutching the book to my breast, I went forward and embraced him tightly around the shoulders with my free arm. “I’ve missed you,” I murmured.

His own arms found their way around me. While he buried his face in my neck, I felt as though he was clinging to me, desperately.

We stood there for a long time, me caressing his hair, trying to comfort him.

When we pulled away, I looked into his chestnut eyes; they were misty. Wine always had a negative effect on Arno. I whispered, “Why are you melancholy?”

Arno shook his head. “I’m not. I’m elated I have someone here with me.”

Loneliness is a powerful demon. I leaned forward and kissed him on his left cheek, right on his scar. Pressing my forehead to his, I whispered, “You’ll always have me here with you.” We stood there for a few wonderful moments, as I breathed in his scent. I silently wished him to put those full lips on mine, but alas, he did not. Pulling away, I delicately touched his cheek, before going to my spot in front of the fireplace. I felt his eyes on me as I sat down, my legs folded beneath me. I opened the book to my original spot.

Arno brought the armchair up close to me. This was our ritual on the evenings we spent together. Me reading a new book he had ascertained, him usually drinking and staring reflectively into the flames. Tonight was different. He may have been sitting there, but his mind was restless.

We sat this way for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Finally, he spoke in the softest voice I had ever heard him use: “Can you ever forgive me?”

I looked at him. He was staring at the large scar on my right arm, which was practically glowing in the fire light.

Gingerly, I closed my book. “Arno, there’s nothing for me to forgive you for.”

Arno scoffed and leaned back into the chair, his fist pressed to his mouth. He was holding back tears. “Not once did I ever show you the respect you deserved. Now you are here and you are speaking to me like an old friend.”

“But you are my friend.”

“I constantly kept you at arm’s length.”

“But your heart belonged to someone else.”

“Yeah, bully for me. I do not deserve your kindness. I chose another woman over you, a woman I thought I knew.”

I shifted on the floor to face him. Taking a deep breath, I recited what I had planned on saying to him for the past six years: “I was…very angry with you for a long time. It would be foolish and a lie for me to say that I was all right with how things initially ended with us. But….this time apart has left me with time to think and to grow. And as much as I would like to say I would not, had I been in the same position, choosing between a man that I loved and had grown up with, as opposed to….what I was to you, I can’t say that I would have chosen any differently than you did.”

Arno covered his eyes with his hand. “You were right. In the end she chose obligation and revenge. She had turned into someone else. I knew the girl, but not the woman she turned out to be.”

Glancing down at the book in my lap, I said softly, “I am sorry. For all your losses.”

I looked up in time to see a tear dip out below his hand. “For all my mistakes," he muttered.

“Arno, you cannot place blame. How long do you plan on torturing yourself for their deaths?”

His hand did not move. “I think the rest of my life should be sacrifice enough.”

I sighed. That damned wine. “Arno, I think you deserve so much better.”

The bond between Arno and I was confusing. To him, I was a fellow Assassin. Undoubtedly, a friend as well. We had never been lovers, never been more than flirty quips and knowing glances; the occasional caress or brushing of bodies against one another. I have pined for him, mourned him, and loved him. 

I reached up and placed a hand on his knee. He opened his eyes, his gaze searching my face, “I have no one left in the world.”

Arno must know that I needed him, and likewise.

Setting the book down on the floor next to me, I raised up on my knees and then stood. I carefully and slowly sat down on Arno’s lap. This was the closest we had ever been. Arno looked up at me, the tears flowing. Giving him a sad smile, I reached up with both hands and gently wiped away his tears with my thumbs. Arno’s eyes were clouded with sadness. I pulled him to me and he wrapped his arms around me, curling to me like a distraught child. His head pressed to my chest, I laid my head on top of his, stroking his hair with one hand and cradling his head with the other. 

Kissing his hair many times, I wondered if this was it. Arno would never stray from Elise, even in light of her death. I whispered, “It’s all right, my sad Assassin. Because you are wrong. You have me.”

Arno pulled away and reached up to draw my hand away from him.

This is it, I thought bitterly. This is where I lose him.

But he stared at the long ragged scar. He leaned forward and pressed his full lips to it. He ended up kissing the length of my scar with many, soft wonderful kisses.

My breathing sped up, my heart thumping as I watched him.

I watched as he released my arm and reached behind to the small of my back to pull me closer. His lips had migrated to my bare upper chest. Leaving behind several lazy, sloppy kisses across the tops of my breasts, his hold on me tightened. I closed my eyes, letting out a soft moan, my skin tickled by the softness of his lips.

His kisses went up my neck, his nose grazing just near the back of my ear. Drawing back, he tilted his head up. Looking into those deep brown eyes, I bent forward and pressed my lips to his forehead, all across the expression lines, and then to his left temple. I gently kissed his eyelid, and then let my lips find that scar. I kissed that nose that had been broken more than once.

I placed my hands on his face, my thumbs wiping away the next set of tears streaming down. Arno’s deep brown eyes stared into mine. He whispered my name, and then begged, “Say it. Please. I need to hear it. Say you want me.”

I slightly shook my head from disbelief of his ignorance. “Arno…. I’ve always wanted you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, a cliffhanger!! Aren't I a jerk? Haha, no worries, the next chapter will be ready soon :)


	6. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, our smut chapter :)

And with that, the turmoil, tension, horror, sadness, regret, shame and fear broke loose from Arno. He brought her head down to meet his and kissed her passionately. He could taste the wine on her breath and lips as his tongue met hers: her lips were the sweetest he had tasted.

She grabbed his hair, desperate to get more of him. Arno forced her body closer until her breasts were pressing upon him. Though separated by layers of fabric, he found himself becoming aroused. A low growl escaped him.

She had heard his animalistic noise and shifted in his lap, hiking her long dress and robe up. She threw a leg on either side of him, straddling him on the chair. With every press of his lips on hers, she answered feverishly, unyielding. Her wonderful, luscious lips were taking his breath away. However, it was one grind of her hips against his tightening pants that seemed to tear the rest of the air out of his lungs. Arno decided that they were wearing far too many clothes. Reaching underneath her toned thighs, he lifted her up as he raised from the chair, still locked in fiery, unrelenting kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she let him carry her to his luxurious bed. Arno set her on it, gently and then lied upon her. He lightly raked his fingernails upon her arms that were wrapped around him.

Their kisses turned sweeter, lingering longer now. Arno pressed his mouth against her delicious lips several times more before his lips began trailing down her neck. She let her head back against the mattress, allowing him more access to the pale, beautiful skin.

He softly bit and teased her, his mouth hungrily trying to taste her. His hands had moved south as well, lightly brushing against her nipples that were poking through the fabric. The gasp that came from her further pushed his arousal.

Leaning over on one elbow, he began to untie her robe belt, meticulous, as if it were Christmas and he was unwrapping a present he had asked for all year long. Her fingers reached up and lovingly stroked the beard stubble on his cheek. Arno undid her robe and removed the barrier from his way. Placing both hands on either side of her face, he swooped down to capture her lips with his again. She brought up both her legs around him and he placed a hand on her to hike her leg up higher on his hip. The nightgown came away, exposing both legs. Arno’s hand came down and caressed her muscular thigh until it came to a stop right on her buttock. 

Arno pulled away from their kiss. She looked at him through hooded eyelids, her eyes filled with lust. He said, “You’re trembling.”

“I didn’t notice,” she said softly. “I suppose I’m nervous. Are you?”

He stared at her, shaking his head. “I’m terrified.”

Her hands touched his face. “I won’t ever hurt you. I've wanted you for too long to hurt you.”

Instead of replying, his kissed her hard, hands clutching at her body.

Lips still locked, Arno’s hand explored her body. His fingers found her hardened nipple poking through her nightgown’s fabric. His thumb and forefinger teased the sensitive tip, causing her to gasp in his mouth. After several moments’ of tormenting her sensitive bud, he used his fingernails to lightly trail his way down her stomach and to the heat between her legs. His fingers brushed against her swollen labia and he could hear her breath catch in her throat. Fingertips softly stroked against her shaven, delicate skin as his lips aggressively kissed her eager mouth. Probing just between her slit, he could feel she was practically drenched. His cock gave a painful jerk as he realized just how badly he wanted to put himself inside her, but no, he had to wait, had to savor every part of her.

His teeth grazed her neck. “You are so wet for me, mon amour….” 

She bit her lower lip, before letting out a gasp at Arno’s teeth nipping her sensitive neck. She managed to whisper out, “I get this way practically every time I see you.”

Her confession made him growl deep and loud. Standing from the bed, he took her hands and pulled her up to a sitting position almost aggressively. He took her nightgown by the hem and raised it off her with a move so fast, it made her laugh. 

Arno’s face turned red. “Perhaps I am too eager.”

She kneeled, in all her nude glory in front of him. Arno had to resist the urge to pin her back to the mattress and put his mouth all over her luscious body. Gently kissing him, she said, “There’s no need to rush. We have all night.”

Arno nodded, fingertips touching her arms so lightly, it caused her skin to tighten into goose pimples. He leaned forward, his mouth capturing her soft, plump lips again in a passionate kiss.

Pulling away, she began to unbutton his waistcoat. Arno leaned forward to softly and slowly kiss her forehead repeatedly, inhaling the wonderful scent of her hair, her braid having fell out at the beginning of their activities. Pulling off his waistcoat, she then untucked his white billowy shirt. Her fingers expertly worked the gauntlet on his left arm, unlatching it and setting it on the night table. Arno removed his shirt without removing his eyes from hers, dropping it to the floor, forgotten.

She had only seen Arno without his shirt twice and it was a sight she had never forgotten: bulging pectoral muscles from years of hoisting himself when freerunning on buildings, lightly covered in chest hair; large, broad shoulders that would make any woman swoon, sturdy arms for fighting, carrying, embracing; and defined, sculpted stomach muscles that she found herself tracing her fingers over.

Undoing his leather belt, she tried not to appear too anxious. She didn’t want Arno to think she was impatient, but that’s exactly how she felt, hands gliding and undoing buttons. Arno cupped her face, covering her hot mouth with his. Just when she had prepared to pull away the last bit of clothing, Arno grabbed her hands and stopped her, pulling away from their kiss. She looked up at him, confusion and worry across her face.

“Wait. I need a taste, first,” he murmured. He guided her down flat on her back onto the mattress. He kneeled down onto the floor, in front of the bed, before grabbing her thighs and dragging her body to him until her center was on the edge.

She was nervous. She had had lovers before, but the number was quite low. Her experience was minimal, if nonexistent. Of course, she knew Arno had entertained women frequently in his past and may have expectations she may not be able to meet. She bit her lower lip, out of anticipation but mainly anxiety. She felt his lips lightly suck on the skin just above her groin, causing her to let out a giggle. What was he doing to her? She had never had a man so interested in that part of her, except to put his own cock there – 

“Ohhhhhhh,” she breathed loudly when Arno’s firm tongue licked her wetness. Through her ecstasy, she looked down and saw the top of his head, hair gleaming in the fire light, his face buried between her legs. So this is what he was planning. Any reservations she previously had immediately left her as this new, incredible and exciting feeling began to wash over her body with every lick of Arno's skillful tongue. She began to tingle in places she never imagined she could.

Without a doubt, she has one of the best looking _chatte_ that he had ever seen and was by far the tastiest, Arno deduced as his face became covered in her sweet nectar. He licked and sucked at her like she was the juiciest piece of fruit he had ever consumed, unrelenting and fierce. Of course, the delightful noises she was emitting made his cock pulsate painfully again in his britches. When Arno placed his lips around her swollen clitoris and began to suckle softly and flick her with his tongue, he felt her hand grab his hair like a vice, and she began to subconsciously grind her pelvis against him as her body continued to squirm.

Exactly the reaction he was looking for. He knew she was close, as evident by the gasps and cries escaping her lips. He wanted to send her overboard, to disappear into the depths of complete and utter desire. While still sucking on her, he placed two fingers inside her, firmly stroking in and out. She deserved to feel the absolute intensity of unreserved passion, and he intended to bring her there.

"Ohhhhh, oh mon dieu, Arno, right there!" she cried, her back beginning to arch.

Yes, he had her. She let out a cry as the orgasm took her, her body writhing and grinding underneath his tongue, relenting delicious nectar on to him. Her grip on his hair tightened as she rode out the rest of her gratifying orgasm, letting out soft whimpers of ecstasy.

When her fingers slacked and he could tell she was coming back down to earth, he gave her one final firm lick before standing to finally remove his slacks. He crawled onto the bed to her, kissing her and intertwining his fingers into her hair. 

“I’ve never….that was just…so..... _merde_ ,” she breathed between kisses, bringing a grin to his face.

“A good time had by all, mademoiselle, quite _delicieux_ ,” he whispered against her lips. “If you don’t mind, may I have you now?”

She sucked on his top lip for a moment before speaking: “Have your way with me.”

He positioned his hips by hers, setting her legs around him. His manhood hovered over her entrance, throbbing in anticipation. He entered her slowly, treasuring every grip, crevice, and twitch of muscle inside her. She let out a groan louder than any of the sounds she had made thus far, basking in the absolute delight of having Arno’s large size stretch her as she raked her fingernails down his back as a brace.

When Arno was fully inside, the two of them lay there for a few heartbeats, Arno closing his eyes in an attempt to fight back the urge to cum inside her instantly. "I'm sorry, I'm having....a difficult time concentrating at the moment."

“Oh, Arno,” she moaned.

Hearing his name escape from her lips while she was in the heights of such bliss made him lean down and kiss her firmly. She reached up to touch his scruffy face; while kissing her, Arno began to move slowly, back and forth, out of her delectable _chatte_. She moaned and moved her hands to his back, fingernails digging into his skin again. Arno stroked in and out, over and over, building her up to her second orgasm. He continued to hold his own release back, for he was a firm believer in ladies first. However, he was starting to lose control, his strokes becoming quicker, wilder. He wouldn’t last long.

Her orgasm took her by surprise; she cried out, clutching at his back, gasping and feeling herself tighten around his cock. 

Arno immediately lost control. He released into her, collapsing on top of her quivering body as he emitted a satisfying groan. He rode out the rest of the blissful emotion, his breath and heartbeat starting to slow down. He kept his eyes closed, his face buried into her neck and hair. He felt her fingers lightly scratch his scalp, causing a delightful shiver down his spine.

“That was wonderful,” she whispered, her lips against his sweaty brow.

“That was….that was everything I needed,” he replied, his breath hot on her neck.

“I’m glad,” she replied. She sounded exhausted.

Arno raised up and pressed his forehead to hers. Full lips on full lips, he said, “What I needed was you.”

His touching sentiment instantly made her emotional, even one solitary tear escaping the corner of her right eye. Arno smiled sadly, still somewhat breathless, as he bent down and kissed the tear from her cheek. 

She loved the weight of him on her. And she felt as though she was glowing. She had never been with a man like this; loving, sweet, fulfilling. Nothing could wreck this moment as she reached up and ran her fingers through his disheveled hair. Arno kissed her lips one more time before resting his head on her chest. She kissed his head and stroked his muscular back.

“Stay,” he said, firmly.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” She replied, amused.

His head moved, kissing a trail up her left breast. His warm tongue found her nipple, encasing his mouth around it and sucking softly for a few moments. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip, feeling that electricity pulsate through her body again.

Arno’s mouth left her hardened nipple and he looked up at her, “No, I meant stay here with me. At the Café-Theatre."

Her eyes widened in surprise. “For how long?”

“As long as you want. I don’t want to be without you any longer. Make this your home, with me.”

She looked up at the canopy of his bed, her hands still playing with his hair. “I would like that. To have you at my fingertips whenever I want….”

“Anytime you want me, ma chere….anytime,” Arno said, kissing her chest softly. “I’ve been without you for too many years. No more time apart.”

She smiled, nodding her head. “Yes. Yes, I think we should do that.” A thought struck her. Brow furrowing, she murmured, “What of the Brotherhood? You know how they feel about fraternizing.”

Arno propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “Should we tell them?”

Thinking for several moments, she finally spoke: “No, not now. The timing could not be more awful, with you just being reinstated. I don’t want to be the reason they strip you of your title again.”

Arno’s fingertips traced along her stomach, causing her skin to contract. “It may be worth it if I’m allowed to strip you whenever I please.”

Her eyes widened. “Arno, no, you cannot have that mentality again, not even for me.”

Arno leaned down to kiss her. “I know, ma chere. I will use much better discretion this time around. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I promise I will not disappoint you.”

She stroked his light beard. “All right, then. I’ll stay here. But we must be careful.”

“Perhaps you should work harder to keep your cries down to whimpers, for if it wasn’t for the party going on downstairs, everyone in this building may have heard me ravishing your body,” Arno smirked, his other hand caressing her hair.

That dreaded blush she hated so much crept up into her face.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love,” Arno whispered, kissing her luscious mouth. “It was wonderful to hear you enjoyed it so. Besides, there will be plenty more opportunities for us to work on our quietness.”


	7. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I accepted a new position at work and wasn't able to work on this at all. Here's a short chapter to keep you busy for a while :)

My affair with Arno was exciting, breathtaking and…..simply wonderful. We proceeded to keep our relationship a secret from the Council and from our fellow Assassins. While our loyalty was obviously to the Brotherhood, our first and foremost priority was each other. After contracts, we always sought the other out, to calm worries that always arose when going out into the dangerous world. Would he make it back? Is that blood on him someone else’s, or his? We always consummated the end of every contract by a session of lovemaking and falling asleep in each other’s arms. I never wanted to be without him. And it seemed as though he never wanted to be without me, either, by the way his mouth always found its way on my body nearly every single night. 

Eventually, the weather began to warm, the earth waking from a long winter. The last of the snow melted away, and the days began to get longer. I, however, seemed to be stuck in hibernation. While I understand that I am no longer a spring chicken, I found myself slowing down, no longer jumping as high, my muscles straining, much to my frustration. I thought perhaps I needed some more training. The colder months had been slow for everyone. Working as an Assassin is difficult when the snow gives away our tracks. We had to wait for clearer days, which were few and far between. Not that Arno and I minded; we spent the days off locked in his chamber, the snowstorm raging outside while the temperature inside was hot and sensual. While I did my best to keep us a secret, plenty of times Arno’s expert hands and mouth, as well as his delectable body, made my cries of pleasure echo throughout the Café at all hours.

On one of those early spring mornings, while Arno had left to train a new initiate in the armory, I dragged myself from the bed. I was yet again glowing, an aftermath of the wonderful time I had spent with Arno last night…and from the encore performance this morning. I closed my eyes as I stretched, savoring the memory of Arno’s hot kisses trailing down me, his mouth and fingers help bringing me to the brink of passion. I bit my lip and shivered at the memory.

I found my robe tangled up on the ground, however while reaching down I felt a wave of nausea and dizziness hit me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Sinking down onto the floor, I sat there for a moment, trying to get my bearings. For one idiotic moment, I seriously wondered if I had been poisoned. My head was foggy, my eyes were heavy. I began to worry that someone had slipped something into the wine I had drank the night before, but shook the thought away. I would have been dead already if someone had really intended me harm.

I slowly dragged my arms through the holes of my robe, trying to control the gagging that was threatening to bring up my supper. The glow I felt before was gone, replaced with the fatigue that had become my normalcy over the last month. I buried my face in my hands, resisting the urge to vomit. I had never felt so sick. Rising carefully, I went through the room, hoping to walk off the wave of nausea that kept hitting me.

Perhaps I should go back to bed. 

I walked back to the bed, passing the large free-standing mirror. What I saw caught my breath tightly in my throat.

There. The lower part of my stomach. It was protruding out. And not from the bloat of eating or drinking excessively, which I have done on occasion. I placed my hand on it. It was firm. 

My mind began to frantically speed up and my breathing was as if I had just run miles. I was panicking. 

When did I last have my cycle? Oh God, I had not even noticed it was gone, I had been so busy wrapped up in this lovely honeymoon period with Arno. The room began to spin, I was dizzier than before.

When? When? When? I thought desperately, placing both hands on my stomach. 

Months. It had literally been months since I had had my cycle and I had been too busy to notice. And it wasn’t as if Arno and I had been attempting to prevent a child. Our lovemaking excursions always ended the same way, with him collapsing on me as he released inside me. It was naïve to think I would not conceive; we had done everything biologically possible to cause it.

Maybe I was going mad, but I stopped panicking. I even began to smile like an idiot. I pressed my fingers to my lips, trying to suppress it. Having a child never occurred to me, not with the Brotherhood as my way of life. But I suppose I had never thought it should be my future? Never once did I ever imagine myself becoming pregnant – the idea seemed even preposterous, though women my age were already on to their fourth child by now, I did not think my life would ever take me in that direction. My God, what would Arno think? Would he even want this child? We had never spoken of marriage, much less procreation. While I did know of his affections for me, some days I did doubt whether I could ever replace the love he had had for Elise.

Arno was a gallant, responsible man. He would never abandon his own flesh and blood, I decided. He couldn't.

I heard footsteps approaching. I hastily closed my robe and tied it as the bedroom door opened.

Arno. He was out of breath, sweaty from the sword training. His shirt was open – always a delicious sight.

“Good morning, mon amour,” he said, smiling. “You look beautiful.”

I laughed, trying to brush my tousled hair from my face. “I look a mess.” I hoped he could not see my anxiety.

He closed the gap between us with two strides and gathered me in his arms. “Au contraire, you look heavenly,” he muttered, kissing my lips hard. “But we must get ready. The Council has called for us. We have a new contract.”

“Contract?” I echoed as he released me. “Where are we going?”

“No, mon amour, this isn’t like the others. We merely have to accompany a sheik to a secured location. No killing. Just watching,” Arno said, buttoning a new shirt as he sat on the chair near his boots.

No killing? Laughable - every plan nearly ended in bloodshed. Thus the appeal of the exciting life of an Assassin.

“Are you all right, love?” Arno asked, slipping a boot on.

I nodded, though the worry coursing through my veins surely showed on my face. Being an Assassin was one thing. I could sacrifice and risk my life, but I could not risk the life of my unborn child.

What would I do?


	8. Reveal

Getting my trousers on was a challenge. I did not realize that I had grown so much. I could barely close them. I turned away from Arno, hoping that he would not see me struggling. Now that I had the opportunity to really look down at myself, I could see my swollen belly was much more prominent than I had originally thought. Mentally, I scolded myself for being so unobservant. Surely Arno had seen it? Wouldn’t he wonder why I was getting so fat? I did not need the conversation right now anyway, before I even had the chance to be examined by a midwife.

I hastily pulled my shirt over my head, followed by my Assassin robe. Arno continued to chatter behind me, oblivious to the fact that I was trying to dress at lightning speed.

“It really is quite beautiful today,” Arno said thoughtfully, gazing out of the terrace door. “It was much too long a winter.”

“Uh huh,” I said absently, tying my hidden blade to my wrist.

“Perhaps we can go out later for a bit of training? Would hate to waste a day like today.”

“Ah…sure, that would be fine.” I may have agreed, but I dreaded the thought of doing anything strenuous. I looked over to the bed – it seemed so cozy and inviting. Perhaps I should go back to it.

“Afterward, I would love to take a stroll through the countryside with you, love,” Arno stated. I could hear him walking toward me. I turned to greet him. He had already put on his long blue coat – I had not even noticed.

I managed a smile as he came toward me. His arms wrapped around me as he ducked his head to kiss me. If my mind hadn’t been so cluttered, I would have warmed up to his touch, even allowing for a quick lovemaking. However, his charming self is what got me into this predicament in the first place.

Arno noticed my hesitance. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I needed to fix myself if I planned on staying safe during this mission. Nodding, I managed a half-hearted smile. “Absolutely. Just tired, I suppose.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry for keeping you up so late. Let’s be on our way, so we can return for an afternoon nap.” He gave my arms a reassuring squeeze before he opened the bedroom door. “After you, mademoiselle,” he said, with that cheeky smile of his.

I sighed. This was going to be a rough day.

*

The mission had gone well. We received no interference from anyone. Arno had driven the carriage to the location while I had ridden inside with the Sheik. He was quiet, with an almost cryptic style. He wasn’t much for small talk, which was fine, since I was trying to keep watch.

As we bumped along the road, I would occasionally find my mind wandering while looking out the open carriage window. From time to time, I would put my hand on my stomach, almost protectively. If I was truly with child, I would have to tell Arno and soon. Perhaps I would go by the midwife first. I wanted to have her confirm it, though deep down, I already knew, for I felt changed. Until this point, I had faced the world fearlessly, thinking that I could take on anyone, anything. But now, feeling this swelling beneath my hand, I knew that everything was going to be different, including me.

Of course, now I was just wondering how Arno was going to take this.

“Feeling well?” the Sheik said, his voice soft.

I snapped out of my daydream and looked at him. “I’m sorry?”

“You are distracted,” he smiled pleasantly.

Shrugging, I removed my hand from my stomach. “Simply trying to watch for any trouble.”

The Sheik continued to smile at me. I didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, his presence was soothing and peaceful.

We rode in silence for the next several minutes; I did my best to keep my wandering mind on the mission.

Once the carriage slowed, I could hear Arno leaving his seat. He appeared at the door, which he opened for both of us. “We’re here, monsieur.”

The Sheik and I both exited the carriage. Arno, ever the gentleman, gave me his hand while I stepped out. I looked up in his gorgeous brown eyes; they looked down at me, almost twinkling. He winked. I swear my pulse quickened. This handsome man had a powerful effect on me.

The Sheik entered the temple with us right on his heels. We turned down the empty hall, decorated with elegant, hanging tapestries and walked until we found the right office. The magistrate was waiting for him inside the ornate office.

The Sheik turned and smiled. He was such a mysterious man with his intricate turban and dark skin. “Lady and gentleman, I must thank both of you for your time and your kind words. You have made my time in France quite memorable. Thank you for your protection.”

“You’re very welcome, monsieur,” I replied. Arno smiled and acknowledged with a bow of his head. He was on alert, though the long hallway was deserted. 

The Sheik bowed his head to Arno and took my hand. He covered it with his other gloved hand and smiled, staring into my eyes intensely.

Quizzical, I looked at him, intrigued at what was happening. “Monsieur?”

“The adoration between you two is wonderfully visible. And marvelous. I have not seen a love like this for quite some time,” the Sheik said, smiling and looking between the two of us.

I glanced over at Arno and saw one corner of his mouth slightly shift into a tiny smile. Perhaps he was acknowledging the Sheik’s words, for he had never actually told me that he loves me. Maybe the words were too hard for him. But I knew.

The Sheik paused for several more moments, still holding my hand in his, even gaining the curious eye of Arno, who took an inquisitive step toward me. Finally, the Sheik spoke: “Your child is strong, like you. Be good to him. He will have chestnut eyes – “ the Sheik looked over at Arno, grinning, “-like his father.” He released my hand, leaving me stunned and speechless. Arno had even taken two shocked steps forward as the Sheik left us to greet the magistrate. I could tell he was panicked, even with his beaked hood hiding half his face.

I froze, my blood seemingly turning cold. How on earth did he know?

The door to the magistrate’s office closed, leaving Arno and I out in the empty hallway.

Arno’s eyes were scared, the same look I often see in my prey’s eyes right before I take their lives. “You are with child?”

“Arno,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I thought we agreed no secrets,” he said, his voice low.

“No, I did not mean to keep this from you,” I said, catching the desperate tone in my voice. “I only suspected this morning.”

Trembling, I reached up and forced my hood down. I went to touch his arm, but he had walked out of my reach. Arno placed a gloved hand over his mouth, and slightly turned from me. I resisted the urge to come up behind him and bury my face in that lovely spot on his back, between his broad shoulders, where I normally felt so safe. 

He wouldn’t face me; he was breathing heavily, his hand still over his mouth.

Several, agonizing moments later, I felt tears springing to my eyes. “Arno, please, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be cross.”

He turned to face me, his eyes clouded with tears as he lowered his hand. “I could never be cross,” he whispered.

My own hand flew to my mouth as I stifled a sob, my shoulders sagging from relief.

He walked slowly towards me, lowering his hood as he did so. Instead of kissing me, as I had come to expect, he dropped to a knee in front of me, his gaze locked on my abdomen. He touched it with his hand, and I could tell that he could feel my bump through my robes and his glove. “How did I not notice?” he murmured. “A son.”

Deciding it was finally safe, I stroked Arno’s head as he leaned forward and kissed my stomach. I smiled, a tear slipping out down my cheek. Arno then pressed his head to my abdomen, and embraced me tightly. 

While in that hallway, Arno embracing me as I caressed his hair and forehead, we were no longer Assassins. We were two people, in love, wondering at how extensively our lives were about to change. And it could not have been more beautiful.

**  
Arno looked out at the city, the evening air chilly and numbing, though his heart was so full, it could have been an arctic blizzard and he would not have cared. 

After all he had been through, and everything he had seen, he knew better than to not think the Sheik’s words held any truth. For he had noticed that his love’s figure had gotten fuller; of course, a gentleman never says such things out loud, mostly because he found it wildly attractive. He remembered when he first spotted her changing body; he had been on the bed on his back, her on top of him, both deep in a passionate act. When he looked up at her, his eyesight flooded with pleasure, he could see that her breasts were ampler, and her hips were soft beneath his grasping hands. However, in the moment, he had never given it a second thought. For her physique was still a beautiful paradise, which his hands explored lovingly and with enthusiasm. Her stomach had always been flat, save for the extravagant meals he sometimes prepared for her. But, by his own ignorance and naiveté, he had never given her slightly bulging stomach much consideration.

Kneeling between the gargoyles of the church, Arno felt a stupid grin spread across his face. For he thought of earlier, after the Sheik had been safely delivered and they had returned home, he watched her strip her Assassin robes. He needed to see the bump that he had felt beneath his fingertips outside of the magistrate’s office. After she unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt, he saw it, pronounced and curvy. She had looked up at him for his reaction, as if he would be anything except ecstatic. Instead, he had guided her to the bed, where she laid down on her back. He sat down next to her, rubbing his ungloved hands over her abdomen, memorizing the lines, the swelling, and thickness.

“Well?” she had asked, her own hand behind her head, looking up at him through her lashes. “What do you think?”

“I’ve never felt a pregnant woman’s belly before,” Arno said, thoughtfully, rubbing his hand on her tummy from side to side. “But I have decided it is the best feeling in the world.”

She smiled and sighed. “Do you believe what he said, about it being a boy?”

Arno traced the swelling skin under his finger. “I believe there is weight in his statement. He is a very puzzling man; perhaps he has insight that we do not have. How else could he have known you are with child? You certainly don’t look it.”

“I feel it. I was wondering why I couldn’t keep up with you while climbing.”

“I’m sorry, my love, but you could never really keep up with me to begin with,” Arno said, smirking.

She feigned anger by uttering a gasp. “Well for certain, I cannot even hope to keep up with you anymore. As of now, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Then you should rest. For both your sakes,” Arno said, bending down and kissing her stomach. “Sleep well, my little one.” He stood and pulled the blanket over her. Sighing, she turned to her side and snuggled beneath the blanket. Arno kissed her cheek before striding toward the terrace door.

“You may bring me back some sweet rolls from that bakery off Rue de Lobau,” she yawned.

He turned, quizzical. “Sweet rolls?”

“Yes,” she had replied, not opening her eyes. “The baby wants them.”

Arno laughed while crouched between the gargoyles, her statement honestly tickling him even then.

The sun was setting. Above him, an eagle soared.

A thought struck him; he began to think of Elise. Of course, he thought of her every day. But his new love filled his heart enough that he could finally put Elise somewhere in the back of his mind, her memory catalogued and safe, but never forgotten. Oftentimes he reflected on Elise; yes, he had known her as a child, but the secrets she kept prevented her from knowing the woman she was. What upset him most was that so much had been left unsaid between the two of them. He thought perhaps it would be healthy to write to her, as he had done for his father.

Instead, he thought for a moment, his eyes not leaving the eagle.

“Elise,” he whispered, momentarily feeling silly. However, no one was possibly around to hear. “Elise, I have so many regrets, still, all these years later. I do not know why we had to be apart, but now I see that maybe a bigger plan is in action. I love her, you know, and I thought I would never love again. Now she is now carrying the life of my son. Frankly, I believe I could not have chosen a better woman to be the mother of my child.”

Arno took a deep breath. “Elise, darling, you may have been with me at the beginning of my life, but my new love will be with me for the rest of it. Thank you for sending her to me.”  
Arno closed his eyes and said a prayer. He did love her, and knew above anything else in this world, he would do anything to protect her. If anyone tried to hurt her, or his unborn son, he vowed that blood would be shed.

He heard the gong of the church bell. Snapping out of his daydreams, he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out his father’s pocket watch. “Merde,” he whispered. The bakery would be closing momentarily.

Rising, he gave a salute to the eagle, spread his arms, and performed the Leap of Faith.

Arno climbed the stairs, bag of sweet rolls in his hand. The bakery had in fact been closed when he had arrived, however once he explained to the considerate baker’s wife that he needed the bread for his pregnant betrothed, she ushered him inside and sold him a dozen, delicious looking sweet rolls. He resisted the urge to eat one himself.

Arno opened the door and immediately knew everything was amiss. The terrace doors were wide open, blowing in a bitter, unforgiving wind. A chair was knocked over, his papers from the desk strewn about the floor. She wasn’t in the bed where he had left her, the blankets partially on the floor. 

The iron smell of blood reached his nose as he stepped in further, the bag of sweets falling from his hand. Dread filled him, tightening his lungs and he felt himself become dizzy.

He stepped further into the room. There she was, to his left, near the terrace, lying haphazardly on the floor, crumpled in a heap. 

His feet suddenly felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, for he could not run to her faster. Falling to her side, he gently rolled her over, saying her name.

Once he saw her face, a sob of disbelief escaped him. Her eyes were open, the light from them gone. Her throat had been cut, the blood no longer flowing. She had probably been attacked soon after he had left. Arno’s fingers trembled as he touched her face, now pale and cold.

There. On her right arm, a Templar emblem had been cut, post mortem. And on her exposed belly, was one solitary stab wound caused by a sword. As if they had known purposely murdering his child would be the catalyst to push him over the edge.

Arno, shocked and sobbing, gathered her lifeless form up in his arms. He rocked her against him, devastated at how cold she felt.

Arno buried his face in her hair, letting the tears flow. The scream built in his belly, burning, until it finally escaped his mouth, long and shattered.


	9. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter for you :) Enjoy.

Arno woke then, the scream still on his lips. It was night, the fire crackling in the hearth again. His love had awoken, as well, sitting straight up in bed; a dagger that was normally on the nightstand ready in her hand. She was looking at him, eyes wide and alert. “Arno?”

His chest was heaving as if he had just run miles. Becoming aware of his surroundings, he realized he had fallen asleep in his desk chair, still fully dressed and even with an invoice in his hand. Just a nightmare, he told himself, relieved. Just a nightmare.

After placing the dagger down on the night table, she rubbed her eyes with her palms. Then looking over at Arno, she said, “What was that about?”

Arno let out a breath, setting the paper down on the desk before him. “Just a dream.”

She dragged the blanket off her, and stood up, her nightgown successfully hiding her growing belly. As she walked to him, he could not meet her eyes. “Sounded like a nightmare from the scream you let out. I get them too. But I think you’ve awoken half of France.” She stood in front of him, as her hand caressed his cheek. “If you don’t want to tell me about it, I understand. But you should come to bed. It’s late.”

Arno leaned forward and placed his hand on her belly. Pressing an ear to her abdomen, he placed his arms around her again in an embrace. She rubbed his back and shoulders, consoling.

“I can’t lose you,” Arno whispered.

She did not know how to respond. Danger was part of their livelihoods, every day was possibly their last. Their occupation did not offer security. Instead, she continued to run her hands down his back.

“Perhaps we should leave,” Arno suggested.

Her caresses paused. “Leave? Where would we go?”

“Some place where we have not killed a good portion of its citizens,” he scoffed, still embracing her.

“Paris is our home,” she reminded him gently.

“Paris is dangerous. The fight will never end, you said so yourself. And now that I have you, now that you are carrying my child, if I were to lose you, if something happened and I couldn’t stop it – “ His hold on her tightened.

“Mon amour, what can I do to ease your mind?” she asked.

Arno sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps we should think of a different line of work for ourselves.”

“Arno, darling, we’ll always be assassins. It’s in us. And our son will be one, as well.”

Arno looked up at her. “What if we do not raise him to be an Assassin? What if we nurture him to be someone else?”

She tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “Arno, neither of us were raised to be Assassins, and look where we ended up. It was part of our destiny. We still became what we are now.”

The nurture vs nature theory would not work, he knew, but it still gave him hope that perhaps they could run away, far from here, and start over. 

She took his chin between her fingers and brought his face up. Planting a firm kiss on his lips, she then said, “Come on, love. Time for bed.” She took both his hands and helped him raise from the chair. Arno walked over to the bed with her, taking off his coat and gear on the way. 

“I’m sorry to scare you awake,” Arno muttered, unbuttoning his waistcoat and removing his scarf.

She undid the gauntlets on his arms. “It’s all right. I suppose I’m used to chaos. Wouldn’t be a normal night if my heartrate didn’t speed up.”

“It can’t be good for the child, to have you in such distress,” he said, removing his shirt and exposing his large, sculpted chest.

“I am sure he is healthy, happy and full of sweet bread,” she replied, smiling and placing a hand on her stomach. 

Arno chuckled as he bent to kiss her lips firmly. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She drunk him in, intoxicated by his scent, lips, and warm body.

“Let’s go to bed now, love,” he said against her lips.

They both laid down, bringing the covers over them. She rolled to her side, Arno pressed up against her back, wrapping his arms protectively around her. Arno closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. He was still anxious, but knew that somehow, he would find a solution.


	10. Assignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had some extra time on my hands today and was able to edit the next chapter. Happy Thanksgiving!

A month later, Arno and I were beckoned to appear before the Council. When we received the notification, I felt sick with worry. Did they know? What would happen? Arno had only been back in the Brotherhood for only part of the year, and only after some shameless begging on my part. Probationary periods did not exist for the Assassins, and fraternizing was extremely discouraged.

“We have eyes everywhere,” I muttered, buttoning up my trousers. “It was foolish to think they wouldn’t find out about us. I shouldn’t have stayed here.”

Arno sat on the chair, pulling his boots on. “Of course you should have stayed here. We should not assume.”

My pants no longer fit, even though they had been let out by the seamstress down the road the same week. “Shit,” I muttered.

Arno noticed me struggling and grinned. “Taking up more room, is he?”

“You would think I would be further along, considering how big I’ve gotten,” I huffed, tying the pant strings as tight as they would go.

“The midwife said you are perfectly normal for 20 weeks. Perhaps it is all those sweet rolls you keep making me get?” Arno teased, standing and slipping his shirt on.

I pointed a finger at him. “Listen, monsieur, you cannot deprive your child – what he wants, he gets.”

Arno grinned at me, shaking his head and tucking in his shirt. “Well, regardless, I think you look beautiful.”

“We’ll see how attractive you think I am when I am fat and sluggish,” I replied, putting my arms through the sleeves of my shirt. “I feel like I am already waddling.”

“Nothing is more beautiful than the woman carrying my child,” Arno replied, his tone serious.

His sincerity made me smile. “Thank you, dear. I think I’m just feeling anxious.” I found the large red sash that I had begun to tie around my waist lately, in an attempt to hide my growing belly. However, I would not be able to carry on this façade for much longer.

“Arno, if they have found out, and they are threatening our titles, I will leave the Order.”

Arno had been putting on his waistcoat, and froze at my words. “You will leave?”

Shrugging, I said, “It makes the most sense. I am with child – I cannot do this forever. Shall we find a nanny while we both go out on assignments and come home with blood on our robes?"

“What about what I had suggested before? That we both go?” Arno asked, his voice soft.

“No, you are an Assassin, Arno. It’s what you love,” I said, throwing my robes over me and buttoning them.

“I never said I love it,” he replied quickly.

“You need it, it fulfills you,” I said back just as fast.

Arno turned away from me, to get his blue robe that hung near the terrace door, “We will have to see what they have called us for, before we start making plans.”

I brought the hood up around my head. “Agreed. If it is an assignment, I want this to be the last one I do. I will alert the Council I am with child after.”

Arno turned to face me, his expression worried. “Assignment? Absolutely not. I cannot allow it.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, though I doubt he could see it. “Why ever not?”

“We just discussed this. You cannot endanger our child,” Arno replied.

“How about if we just see the assignment first, if that’s what it is,” I bargained. 

“No, no. You cannot be serious.”

“What? Did you think I would just sit here in this room for the next 4 months? I’m already stir crazy as it is,” I said, almost laughing.

“Then you can help Madam Gouze with the café,” Arno said, shrugging into his coat, “But you cannot take contracts in your delicate state.”

“Delicate state?” I echoed, incredulous. “I am a better swordsman than you are now.”

Arno finished snapping his gauntlets on. “Regardless of your swordsman skills, I cannot condone such behavior, Elise, for what would happen if – “ He stopped talking, finally catching on to his mistake.

It was a good thing I had my hood on, because he would not be able to see the hurt in my eyes. Or the betrayal. Up until this point, I had supported him whenever he spoke about Elise, believing that it was healthy for him to get out whatever he was feeling. He no longer seemed wistful, but sometimes when he spoke, his mind took him miles and miles away. I had listened patiently, because I knew that his heart was now mine. But he had never called me by her name before. And I didn't like it. 

Not knowing what to do, my feet were frozen in their spot, though I wanted to flee from him, due to sheer embarrassment, more than anything else. Instead, I stared at him.

Arno said my name, coming toward me. “I do not know what made me say that, my love. Please, I am sorry.”

My feet finally moved and I stepped back from his attempt to embrace. “You’ve never made that mistake before.”

“I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry, it was a foolish mistake,” Arno said, reaching for my hands.

I took them from his grip. “You think of her?”

“Yes, at times, I do – “

“You wish that I were her?” I said, keeping my voice low.

“No, I do not, please hear me, I am sorry.”

“I am not Elise,” I snarled.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Do you understand that I am entirely different person?”

Arno wrung his hands together nervously, knowing that he had made a massive mistake. “I am sorry, mon coeur. I know I’ve made a huge error.”

“A huge error,” I scoffed. “Arno, you have to know that I try to be patient whenever you speak of her, but you have even said yourself that the two of you were doomed from the start.”

“I have said that, I know,” he replied quietly.

“And I am sorry that her death saddens you. I would be surprised if it didn’t. But even when she was still here, how often did you see her? Because from what I observed, you were often separated by miles and other commitments. Did you ever really get to spend the time you wanted with her?”

Arno shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

“You were chasing a dream, something that could have been. Would you like to know how I am not Elise?” I said, standing my ground.

Arno’s eyes stared into mine.

“Because I would choose you, unlike what she chose that night with Germain. I would choose you over duty, obligation, any responsibility, without hesitation. By leaving the Brotherhood, I am choosing you, because I want to protect the child that is part of you. So, unlike Elise, I love you deeper than she ever did, despite what her letters might say. I love you deeply, though I have never heard the words from your own lips. And I am the one carrying your child, not her. And quite honestly, I don’t think she would even want to have your children, it was always about her.” I could hear my voice – it was cold and flat, yet filled with hurt.

Arno’s eyes were to the floor. He looked like a boy who had just received a tongue-lashing. “You must know that I do –“

“I don’t assume anything,” I replied coolly. Though, the anger was just a mask for the tears that were burning in my eyes and threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. “I’m going. I’ll see you at the Council.”

Arno reached for his gun belt. “I am almost ready – “

The sound of the door slamming behind me was the answer he received.

**  
I entered the Temple, bowing my head toward my Brothers and Sisters milling through the halls, for it had been several weeks since I had been here. I wanted to protectively put my hands over my abdomen, but I did not want to draw any attention to it. I wondered if they already knew. Hopefully they were only thinking that I had gotten fat.

I entered the main hall and saw the elders up the top of the staircases, looking down at me. Their expressions were grave. Doing my best to control my breathing, I bowed my head in greeting. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Assassin,” Monsieur Delacour replied. “Where is Arno Dorian?”

“Here, Monsieur,” I heard Arno’s voice from behind. He came up next to me. Yes, I was still mad.

The elders looked at each other for a moment. I knew they must have discovered our secret. I had been so blindly in love that I must have been careless with it.

“You have not graced us with your presence for quite some time, Assassin,” Monsieur Delacour said to me.

“I am sorry, Monsieur. I tried to keep up with my correspondence with the Temple. I have not been in any condition to take on contracts as of late.” There, that wasn’t a complete lie.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“Some days,” I confessed. I saw Arno straighten out of the corner of my eye.

Madame Trenet eyed me carefully. “We were worried you were no longer with us.”

“I am, Madame. Some days are better than others,” I replied.

Her eyes went straight for my sash. Of course a woman would see through my deception. “A gross transgression has occurred and we must deal with it swiftly.”

Next to me, Arno sucked in a breath and I felt myself start to panic. Please, do not kick him out again. 

Monsieur Bertrand took a deep breath, “The reason you were both called here is because we have a contract that needs to be fulfilled.”

I must have looked confused, my sense of dread only partially subsiding. Did I not pass at least a dozen of our brothers out in the corridor whilst coming in? Why were they not beckoned for this task?

“Assassin Dorian, do you recall Andre LaGrand?” Monsieur Delacour said, his mouth barely visible through his graying beard.

I looked over at Arno. The name rang a bell. I had heard Arno mention it before.

“Oui, Monsieur,” Arno replied, his brow furrowed, “I helped train him many years ago.”

“He has betrayed the Brotherhood,” Madame Trenet hissed.

My eyes widened. Traitors are dealt with quickly, quietly, and are often thrown into La Seine to rot. But unfortunately, traitors of the Brotherhood have the same training we do, making them harder to track, let alone eliminate.

Arno wasted no time. “Do you have any leads?”

“He is hiding somewhere in Saint-Denis. We tracked him there, but lost the trail. He could be anywhere,” Madame Trenet stated.

“Saint-Denis is practically a ghost town now; I should have no issues locating him.”

“Dorian, you were chosen for this since you had a hand in his training. You must find him before he gives more information to our enemies. When you find him, grant him peace,” Monsieur Delacour ordered.

“Assassin,” Madame Trenet spoke to me: “You will accompany Dorian, as Andre LaGrand does not know you. Use your anonymity to your advantage. And be careful.”

We bowed in respect, and the elders retreated. Of course we would be placed on a mission right when I was the maddest at him that I had ever been.

Arno and I turned to leave. I felt him touch the crook of my arm. “Love, I want you to reconsider this assignment. LaGrand was ruthless and irresponsible during his training. He is too much of a danger.”

“I told you earlier that this would be the last one,” I said, passing by one of our Brothers who was looking at us curiously.

Arno let out a frustrated sigh. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“This is what I do, Arno,” though I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. Did I really want this assignment? Did I really want to do this anymore? I wondered as we walked down the dark, dank hallway back to the Café-Theatre for supplies. A nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach made me think that perhaps I was only taking this assignment to infuriate Arno, to worry him.

Arno was silent on the walk back. When we finally climbed the stairs leading up to the Café-Theatre, listening to the sounds of patrons talking and setting mugs down on the tables, did he speak: “I am sorry for earlier.”

I shrugged, walking into the armory. “It is fine. I do not care.”

Arno tore down his hood. “Dammit, woman. I know you are not fine.”

I stashed some throwing knives into the confines of my robe and then picked up some smoke bombs. “We must leave soon.”

Arno whirled away to continue grabbing supplies, angrily muttering obscenities under his breath.


	11. Hunting

Saint-Denis, formerly known as Franciade for a time, was the ghost town Arno had mentioned. We had waited until dark before we entered the area. But he was not exaggerating – the buildings were dilapidated shacks. Shifty creatures of the night scurried like rats through the streets, anxious for their next treasure or coin that they manage to pickpocket. Though no one here looked like they were flush with coin.

Arno and I wandered through the nearly empty streets, and I wondered even with my anonymity how we were going to sneak up on LaGrand. Arno and I stuck out like sore thumbs.

“All right,” Arno said, keeping his voice low, “I am quite familiar with this area. I have been here before.”

“You have?” I asked, keeping my eyes up into the shadows on the buildings. 

“Yes. Quite extensively. Keep your coin purse heavily guarded.”

I looked up at him, my hand reflexively going to my coins. “Could we possibly use our money to gain some information?”

Arno considered it. “It isn’t a bad idea. Of course, we take the risk of someone blathering about who we are looking for, however if we don’t make a move, we could be here for a while.”

Assignments could take weeks. Many years ago, when I was a fresh Assassin, I was always thrilled at the prospect of adventure. Now I wanted to be back in our bed with a book, a glass of warm milk, and happily anticipating the birth of my first child.

This would be my last adventure.

Arno and I stood at an intersection, though the scenery was very much the same: gray, sagging homes and buildings in every direction. I felt like we were going to be running in circles. 

“What happened last time you were here?” I asked.

“I was searching for an artifact,” Arno said, protectively putting a hand on my lower back. Though I was angry, I still appreciated the gesture.

“By ‘artifact’, you mean the piece of Eden?” I asked, recalling how Arno had made sure it reached Al Mualim in Cairo all those years ago.

“Yes. This is where I met Léon. He was living in an orphanage ran by a woman named Madame Margot. Have I ever told you that story?” Arno asked, as we walked down the decrepit streets.

“You have mentioned Léon before. I remember you saying he was the reason you stayed in France?” I looked up at windows of some homes; I saw many people closing the shutters at the sight of Arno and me. I wondered if any of them were LaGrand.

“Part of it,” Arno replied, his voice quiet. “I was in a troubled state, trying to escape everything that had happened to me. But he made me realize this was my home, and that I was needed here.”

“Perhaps we should go see Léon and Madame Margot if time allows?” I asked. I was curious to meet people that had made such an impact on Arno’s life.

“I believe Madame Margot has moved her orphanage closer to Paris. After the Revolution, she wanted to be closer to those who may need her. And Léon has gained apprenticeship as a weapon smith within the city, as well. I see him quite frequently. Shall we see them both when we get back?”

I nodded. “I would like that.”

We walked in silence for a while, listening to the low chatter of people rushing past, or those hiding in alleys.

“Mon coeur,” Arno whispered. “I wish you had not come with me. The baby –“

“Is hungry,” I interjected. “Let us find a pub.”

Arno hesitated. “I do not know if I would trust any of the food here.”

I saw something resembling a storefront. “There. I see people milling about. Perhaps someone knows something.”

Arno sighed. “Yes, dear. I’m right behind you.”

We entered the pub, if I could even call it that. Just some dirty tables with drunkards bent over, their heads down but their hands on their mugs. Everything here screamed dirty, shifty. I kept one hand on my pistol.

The bartender did not greet us in any form. Arno went to the bar and held up two fingers. We were given two large tankards of bitter smelling wine. The smell made me nauseous, so I pushed the cup toward Arno. He could handle his alcohol.

Arno leaned against the bar. “Well, what do you think?”

I leaned in close to him. “I think everyone here is suffering in some kind of mental capacity.”

“Not exactly any leads, though, and that’s what we need.”

“Just give me a moment,” I said, surveying the dark tavern, “We just got here.”

Arno and I stood there for a while, trying to listen to the whispers of the patrons. No one really seemed to want to give any information, though. He and I were outsiders, dangerous, not to be trusted.

“Are you still angry?” Arno muttered.

“I’m furious,” I said, casually.

Arno looked away. “Great.”

A drunkard across the way, eyeballed the two of us. At least, I think he did. He squinted, trying to focus in on us. “Hey! Boy, I remember you!”

Arno straightened from the counter. “What are you saying, old man?”

“I remember you! You killed those men two days ago!” the old drunk slurred.

“I assure you I did not, monsieur,” Arno said loudly, gathering the attention of everyone else not passed out.

“No, no, no….you were wearing that same hood. And had that weird contraption on your arm.”

“Where did you see him?” I asked, walking to him.

“Oh, about three blocks west of here,” the man swayed on his stool, and looked to the door. “Oh! There you are!”

My eyes averted to the doorway, where a hooded figure was walking right past. He was wearing Assassin robes. The man had heard the declaration and looked into the pub. I could tell he had seen me. 

“LaGrand,” I breathed, starting forward.

I could also tell that he had seen Arno. For he bolted down the street.

Without hesitating, I began to sprint after him, Arno right behind me. We ran out into the street, the hooded figure gaining distance from us. I pushed myself to go faster, raising a gauntlet to shoot a dart at him. I missed my target by nearly a foot – apparently I was losing my touch.

The figure made a sudden turn down an alley, Arno and I managing to keep an eye on him. Mon Dieu, was he fast.

“We should split up,” I huffed, trying to get a breath.

“No! We should not. Just keep going,” Arno managed to say.

LaGrand ran through the open door of what appeared to be an abandoned house. It was completely dark inside, but we pushed forward. The house was in worse condition inside, the boards sagging, the furniture seemingly burnt and long forgotten. 

“’LaGrand!” Arno shouted, running up the staircase, the boards straining under his weight. I followed behind him. Arno burst into the room and I saw him immediately dodge a sword that had swung at him. I pulled the pistol from its holster and shot at LaGrand. Some deity must be looking out for him, because he managed to move out of the way just in time, the bullet lodging itself somewhere into the wall. Arno immediately got up and removed his sword in a fluid movement. LaGrand did the same and swung at Arno; who parried the attack and turned to the offensive. The two went back and forth in the small space; I could not get past Arno. He would not let me get through the doorway, much to my increasing fury and frustration. I knew he was preventing me from joining the fight due to my “delicate state”.

I ran back down the stairwell to the outside. I managed to find a foothold and climb straight up the house to the second story window. Reaching into my robes, my fingers found the throwing knives. I ripped the dagger from its spot and threw it straight at LaGrand, who was busy fighting with Arno. The dagger barely found its mark, grazing just past LaGrand’s cheek. He barely noticed.

Damn, I am out of practice.

I hurled myself through the window, adrenaline thumping through my ears. However, when I entered the room, the floor beneath all of us groaned. When I took two more steps to take LaGrand out with my hidden blade, I felt as though the world had dropped out beneath my feet. Because it had. The floor, anyway.

The rain soaked old floor of the house could not support all of us. The boards gave way, and I crashed to the first floor, Arno landing on his back a few feet from me, sword still in hand. The ceiling landed on us, bringing up a cloud of dust. I frantically looked to see where LaGrand was, but did not see him anywhere. 

To make matters worse, the surface beneath us creaked and there was a loud snapping sound. The impact of our bodies weakened the already fragile ground. We went crashing through that as well. 

I hit the cellar floor so hard, that I became dizzy from the air being forced from my lungs. Arno had landed next to me as well, letting out a shout of pain. 

In one terrible moment, I saw the beams holding up the first floor give way, landing on the two of us, more Arno than me. I curled up into a ball on my side, urgently trying to protect my unborn child as the wood splintered and snapped around us and quickly praying that Arno was all right as well.

Once the chaos stopped, I managed to look up through the holes in both stories of the house. I saw the tail end of LaGrand’s robes whirl away through the haze of dust still lingering. He had managed to not fall as we had and now he was escaping.

My head spinning, for I think I smacked it on the first fall, I managed to bring my legs up out of the chaos. Coughing and pushing broken boards away, I rolled over onto all fours and tried to get my bearings. 

I heard Arno grunt and saw rubble fall from him. The large girder had fallen on him, trapping him beneath the planks.

“Arno!” I cried, crawling over to him. “Are you hurt?”

He was on his back, trying to move. “No but….I…I’m stuck. I am hooked on something underneath.”

I could hear LaGrand’s footsteps fading. “LaGrand’s getting away!” I said, turning briefly away from Arno.

“NO!” Arno said fiercely, his hand seizing my wrist. “You cannot take him alone!”

I wrenched myself away, angry. “Yes, I can. I must go –“

“WAIT FOR ME!” this time, Arno screamed. 

My chest heaving mainly from adrenaline, I looked down at Arno, trapped beneath the rubble. His face was panicked, horrified, his terrified eyes piercing into mine. Never had I seen him so frightened.

I took one step to go up the cellar ladder, to go after LaGrand, but when I heard Arno desperately straining to get the boards off him, I heard my own voice ringing in my head from earlier: I will always choose you over duty, obligation.

The Assassin part of me itched to go after LaGrand, but at this rate, he was probably far from here. But the better part of me, the part that loved Arno, took over and I knew what I must do.

I turned back to Arno, quickly removing the rubble from him. Board by board, I helped to dig him out of the pile, the both of us covered in dust. Finally, I grabbed Arno by both his forearms. As he clutched onto mine, I helped slide him out from under the heavy girder I could not lift. I released him as he rolled over onto all fours as I had done. I leaned over against the cellar wall, my hands on my knees and tried to get my breath back.

Arno sat back on his heels on the floor in front of me, breathing heavily. We both looked awful.

“He’s probably long gone by now,” I muttered, straightening.

Arno shook his head. “I could not care less.”

I moved toward the cellar ladder, intent on eventually finding our target. As I set my foot on the first wrung, Arno came up and snaked an arm around my middle. He spun me around, his hands tightly around my upper arms like a vice as he pinned me against the wall. I had not even heard him rise from the floor. His face was angry, livid. “You cannot scare me like that ever again!”

My eyes widened. “I did not know that I had frightened you, Arno –“

“Are you all right? Is the baby fine?” he asked, frantic.

“I….I, yes, I feel well.”

“Do you have any idea what I would do, if I had lost you?? If you were taken from my world and….and…..” Arno never finished his sentence, his grip on me loosening.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the gravity of this situation dawning on me, finally realizing why he was so upset. I reached up and took his face in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Arno.”

Arno closed his eyes, his breathing still heavy, placing his hands on the wall behind me. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He was emotionally wounded, deeply. “Mon Dieu, I thought it was happening all over again.”

“No, Arno,” I said, the anger from earlier dissipating, “I told you that you are always first. Always.” I kissed his mouth. He kissed me back, his hands touching my face. His kisses were fierce and feverish. Finally, he threw his arms around me and buried his face in my hair. He was trembling beneath my arms. I could not believe that I had been so selfish.

My hair was becoming wet from his tears. He whispered, “If I lost you, I would…I wouldn’t be able to…..”

“Shh, Arno. I’m all right. We’re all fine,” I assured him, my own face buried in his neck. “I’m sorry, too.”

Just then, I felt movement inside me. It was almost like a flurry in my stomach, like butterflies, against my lower abdomen. I thought I had imagined it at first, however I felt it again. The movement was pulsing. I gasped and leaned back from Arno’s embrace.

“What? What is it?” Arno said, holding my arms. “Are you injured?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I…I think I felt him move.”

“What! Just now?” Arno said, his face still wet with tears, though now he was smiling.

“I think so….” The fluttering continued. I moved my sash aside and stuck my hand inside my shirt. I felt the tiny pulses, like bubbles popping under my hand. I grinned. “Yes! There, I feel it.”

Arno hastily removed his glove and I helped guide his hand to my bare stomach. We stood like that for a few moments until he let out a sound resembling a gasp and a laugh simultaneously. He brought his other gloved fist to his mouth, and closed his eyes, enjoying this beautiful moment.

“He feels strong,” he murmured.

“Like you,” I said, reaching up to remove Arno’s hood and tucking some loosened strands behind his ears.

He shook his head. “No, strong like you.” His lips captured mine in a firm, wonderful kiss.

“I love you, I love you,” Arno whispered against my lips. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you until now. I love you.”

Here I was, a deadly Assassin, and he was turning me into an emotional pile of mush. Tears sprung to my eyes as I clung to him. “I love you, Arno Dorian.”

We stood like that for a long time, him whispering sweet things to me over and over, the mission forgotten.


	12. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another smut chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note* This chapter is explicit and obviously has details of a sexual encounter. This story is my interpretation of the characters and their experiences. If you cannot handle that, due to maturity or personal preference, then don't read ahead.

We never found LaGrand, though we stayed in Saint-Denis for some time, trying to find him. It was only after we received notice from the Brotherhood to return that we discovered LaGrand had fled the country. They figured he had made it to Germany, where the Munich Brotherhood would take over. Arno and I decided not to inform them of our confrontation and our failure to capture him. I did not want the Assassins to know that I had chosen Arno over duty.

When Arno and I returned home, I quickly penned a letter to be delivered to the Brotherhood, stating that I was with child and had to take an infinite amount of time away. Arno said that he would deliver it personally. I no longer cared if the Council suspected Arno was the father. I wondered if I would even bother returning to the Brotherhood at all.

I put away my Assassin robes indefinitely and instead began to wear simple dresses. With my growing form, I decided that the simple high-waisted fashions were much more practical. No corsets, of course. According to the midwife, I was six months along, my body becoming fuller and slower as the summer progressed. And I was quite content.

The weeks passed, the weather becoming pleasantly warmer, my belly slowly growing. Arno was adorable – every time he saw me, I was given a kiss on the lips and a loving caress around my abdomen. He was a proud father, and our child wasn’t even here yet. And he never missed an opportunity to tell me how much he loved me.

One beautiful early morning late in the summer, I had gone out onto the terrace with a book. Sitting on one of the chaises, I breathed in the lovely air. Below me, the citizens hurried along, gossiping, talking of the weather, hurrying to work. But I was not partaking in the stressful aspects of this world. My only concern right now was to read a few chapters, soak up the sun, and enjoy this beautiful day.

At some point later, I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently rousing me. I opened my eyes, not realizing I had fallen asleep – the book lying open on my chest. I had been out for a while – the sun had moved enough so that I was now lying in the shade.

“I’m sorry to wake you, love,” Arno said, kneeling down next to my chair.

“It’s all right,” I yawned, running my fingers through my tousled hair and raising to a sitting position, “I did not realize I had fallen asleep.”

Arno took my hands in his, kissing my palms. My sweet man has so much love to give. 

“Where have you been?” I asked.

Arno swallowed, his hold on my hands tightening. “I was out on an errand, love.”

“Were you? Have you gotten your business settled then?” I asked.

“Yes, dear.”

I kissed his cheek, right on his scar. “I’m glad. Come back with me inside, darling. I need some water.”

Hand in hand, we walked through the terrace doors. I released his hand as I went to my water cup near the bed. After taking a few sips, I set the cup back down and turned to Arno, who said, “How are you both feeling today?”

“We are both wonderful,” I replied, “He is moving around quite a bit.”

Arno shrugged out of his large coat and draped it over the chair. Hand resting on his sword hilt, he shifted his weight to one leg. This handsome specimen smiled at me and said, “You look gorgeous.”

I walked to him, though I doubt my form allowed me to walk very seductively. I touched the golden buttons on his shirt. “I’m sure the beauty you are seeing is only the glow I feel from being so in love.”

Arno took both my hands in his. Closing his eyes, he kissed my fingers. “Why do you love me so? Even with all my faults and flaws?”

“I’ve always loved you, Arno,” I sighed. “I always will.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Always? Even in the very beginning?”  
I was silent for a moment, the sting of unrequited love still hurting. “Of course. I just knew the time wasn’t right. Neither of us were ready for each other.”

Arno kissed my lips, and I felt a fire start to grow in me. “I am sorry I did not come for you sooner. All those years we could have been with each other….”

I pulled him down to me, kissing his full, delicious lips again. His aroma was sparking that uncontrollable lust. “No more waiting, mon amour. We’re here now. Let’s make the most of it,” I whispered against his lips as my fingers began to work the buttons on his waistcoat.

Arno bit his lower lip and arched one eyebrow in interest. “Cherie, do not tease me. For you know I cannot get my hands off you once we’ve started.”

“I can’t imagine why I would ever want that,” I said, starting to untie his scarf, “I love when you touch me.”

“I suppose I have a bit of time before I’m needed downstairs,” he murmured, desire filling his eyes as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Let’s get started, Monsieur Dorian,” I murmured.

Arno captured my lips and we feverishly kissed as our hands went into a flurry to remove all his items. As his clothes methodically dropped to the floor, we continued to kiss as we walked to the bed, him guiding me. Arno’s fingers entangled themselves in my hair as his lips stayed on mine. I felt that fire burning in me.

The back of my legs hit the bed as Arno grabbed my delicate nightgown and raised it above my head, breaking our kiss. I was completely nude, Arno still dressed from his hips down. 

His torso was bare. The mere sight of him was enough to fan that internal fire. I went forward to kiss his strong chest, my hands going to his back and lightly digging my fingernails into the firm skin. His skin tasted delicious, smooth and salty. As I kissed him, his fingertips lightly caressed my arms while he kissed my forehead slowly.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I whispered as his fingers began to caress my breasts.

“No hurry, Cherie,” he whispered back, his thumbs lightly touching my erect nipples. The contact made me shudder and I closed my eyes.

“Get on the bed,” I ordered.

Arno smirked. “Oui, mademoiselle.” He made himself comfortable on the bed, me leaning a knee on the mattress before crawling toward him.

“Back against the headboard. I want you sitting up,” I commanded.

“You’ve turned awfully bossy,” Arno said, amused, yet he leaned himself up against the headboard in a sitting position, his legs out in front of him.

“You’ve never complained before,” I replied, my voice low with desire for him.

Though his pants were still on, I straddled my legs on either side of him. He brought me close to him and brought my head down to kiss my lips hard. It was my turn to tangle my fingers in his hair as I pushed my body against his, warm skin on warm skin as my swollen breasts and pregnant belly pressed against him. Below me, I could feel his hardness. 

His lips left mine as they began to trail south. His mouth captured my left breast and I moaned as his warm tongue caressed across it. His hand gripped my other breast, fingers lightly stroking the sensitive tip. I closed my eyes and let a moan escape as I felt my wetness; ever since I had gotten pregnant, my body had become drastically more sensitive. If Arno’s tongue and fingertips kept up, he was in danger of toppling me over into that passion – something we had discovered a few weeks ago, much to Arno’s delight. My body had turned even more so into his playground. Not that I minded.

“Arno, be careful,” I gasped, feeling the pressure build ferociously. He ignored my pleas, his tongue speeding him, his fingertips stroking and teasing. “You’re going to do it again,” I whispered breathlessly.

His hand left its spot, the sudden disengagement of contact providing me some relief from the sensation. If I thought he was going to give me some liberation from his touch, I was in for a surprise. His mouth switched to my other breast, his tongue working mercilessly where his fingers had been before. Through my complete haze of desire, I felt his arm circle around my back, his mouth still latched on me. Before I realized what was happening, his other hand trailed down my puffy belly and went further south.

I gasped when his fingers found their way into my wet lips. Arno wasted no time – he knew exactly where my sensitive bud was and he began to firmly and skillfully stroke it with the exact right amount of pressure.

I cried out, the pleasure shooting through my body like electricity as my fingernails dug into his shoulders. He held me in place with his arm around me locked like a vice, his mouth anchored on me, and his fingers expertly caressing me.

My breathing sped up, my brow furrowed and I began to grind my hips against his touch. Never once did he relent, knowing that I was so close to climax. Over and over, his fingertips stroked me and my hands now clutched at his back, surely leaving marks again. Arno’s warm tongue was moving at the same rate. I was almost at my peak and his proficient knowledge of my weak spots was about to push me over it. My climax was right there, burning bright and unyielding.

“I can’t…I can’t h-hold….back,” I panted, slightly opening my eyes to look down at him as every part of my body tingled.

Arno didn’t even respond. I knew what he wanted. Well, he got it.

My eyes rolled up as I tilted my head back, letting myself fall into that delicious brink of passion. Wave after wave hit me, and I heard my cries leave my lips. I couldn't help but grind against his fingers as I rode out that amazing sensation, my body shuddering almost violently. His fingers slowed.

“Merde,” I groaned, collapsing against him. “How do you do these things to me?”

His mouth finally left its spot and I used the opportunity to tilt his head up to me and lock us into a passionate, fiery kiss. Our mouths opened and I found his tongue with my own. God, he was so delicious.

“My love,” Arno whispered through kisses, “I need to be inside you.”

I nodded, planting one more kiss on his lips before I scooted back and sat carefully on his thighs. I undid his pants, and impatiently pulled them down a bit, freeing his generous manhood. It sprung out, ready and eager.

Without waiting for direction from him, I assumed my prior position, and swiftly sat down. He slid up my soaked entrance, the move quick and powerful. Below me, I watched as Arno closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

It was my turn to tease. I slightly moved my hips in a slow motion. “Are you all right, darling?”

Arno still did not open his eyes; he looked as though he was concentrating very hard. “I…I’m….” he swallowed.

I laughed, delighted. I continued to move very carefully.

Arno bit his lip, and his hands found their usual position on my hips. I could tell I was getting to him – his grip was desperate, clutching at me. His hands began to guide my motions, his breathing heavily controlled. He was already close.

I’m not sure how long we were there, but I felt my own passion building again as I rode him. Arno’s body was beautifully synced to mine. 

My original cockiness turned into complete pleasure as my breathing sped up once again. Below me, I could hear Arno starting to pant as well. I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Amour…. Are you almost there?” he managed to croak out. Still he wouldn’t open his eyes, his hands urgently gripping me: “I’m afraid I’m about to……”

My motions sped up. I didn’t want him to worry about me. He had already given me what I had needed.

“Let go, Arno,” I purred, bringing his face to mine and kissing him feverishly as I moved my hips faster.

Our lips were still locked as Arno climaxed. He groaned and his fingernails almost painfully dug into me as his hips bucked up. I felt him release inside me; it was enough to send me toppling over into my own climax. I gasped out, breaking our kiss as I let the passion ripple through my body. For several more moments, we continued to move, albeit more slowly. Finally, our motions came to a complete stop.

We were both breathless and clammy from sweat.

Finally, Arno opened his eyes and looked up at me. We simultaneously let out a laugh.

Smiling softly, his left hand rubbed affectionately across my enlarged abdomen. “I hope we didn’t disturb him.”

I laughed at his silliness. “He’s quite well. I doubt we interrupted his slumber.”

“Are you certain? His mother sure is overzealous this afternoon,” he teased, kissing my fingers.

“Are you complaining?” I asked, smiling.

“Never,” he murmured.

“His mother does need one thing, though,” I replied, kissing his mouth once more.

“Hmm?” he said through the kiss.

I pulled away and grinned at him: “More sweet rolls.”


End file.
